In Another Life VIII
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Just in time for Valentine's Day, another alternate universe story of a young Harleen Quinzel and an older Jack Napier, and how their lives and love came together. :-) Thanks to everyone who asked for another in this series! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**In Another Life VIII**

Harleen Quinzel opened her eyes when she heard a noise from the kitchen. Someone was moving around in there – probably her Mommy or Daddy, she thought reassuringly, as she cuddled her stuffed clown doll tighter and shut her eyes.

Then her eyes snapped open again when she heard her Daddy snoring from the bedroom next door. It must be her Mommy moving around in the kitchen, but Mommy was usually a sound sleeper…

No, something about this wasn't right, decided Harleen Quinzel, and she sat up, slipping out of bed still clutching her clown doll and padding down the hall to her parents' bedroom. She pushed open the door to see them both asleep and breathing heavily in their bed. But if both her parents were in here, who was that making noises in the kitchen?

She tiptoed inside the bedroom and shook her father. "Daddy!" she whispered. "There's somebody in the kitchen!"

"Mmm…what's that, Harley?" he murmured sleepily.

"There's somebody in the kitchen," she whispered. "I think it might be a ghost. Or a monster."

Her father sighed, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "Harley, for the last time, there's no such things as ghosts or monsters…"

"George, listen!" whispered Harley's mother, sitting up suddenly as she too heard movement coming from down the hall.

Her father was suddenly wide awake, climbing out of bed and heading toward the door. "Gladys, you stay here with Harley," he said.

"Shouldn't we call the police?" she whispered, standing up and pulling her daughter close.

"Not yet," he muttered. "Maybe it's just a…stray cat or something, and then we'd feel pretty foolish wasting police time. Let's just see what it is."

He opened the closet door and pulled out the shotgun, and then crept silently down the hall. "Daddy!" whispered Harley, breaking out of her mother's embrace and rushing after him.

"Harley, no!" gasped Mrs. Quinzel, running after her.

Harley reached her father just as he kicked open the door to the kitchen and flipped the light on.

Inside was a teenage boy, incredibly thin and pale and ragged, and looking absolutely terrified. He looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept in several days, as there were dark circles under his desperate, green eyes, and he clutched the food he had been raiding out of the refrigerator to his chest, as if it was a priceless possession.

His other hand carried a handgun, which was pointed at Mr. Quinzel, although the boy's hand shook. "Stay…stay back," the boy stammered, in a shaking voice. "I'll shoot!"

Mr. Quinzel looked at him, and then slowly lowered his shotgun. "George, what are you doing?" gasped Mrs. Quinzel, who had resumed embracing Harley, partly to protect her, and partly to hold her back.

Mr. Quinzel put the shotgun on the ground and then held up his hands. "You don't want to shoot me, son," he said, gently.

"I don't want to, but I will!" cried the boy. "I will if you don't stay back, or…or if you try to call the cops!"

"We're not gonna call the cops, son," said Mr. Quinzel, gently. "We're not. Just calm down. Put down the gun."

The boy stared at him hopefully, but still kept the gun raised.

"You wouldn't shoot me in front of my family, would you?" Mr. Quinzel asked, softly. "In front of my wife, and my little girl? You wouldn't do that, would you, son? You're not a bad man, are you?"

The boy glanced at the doorway, and his eyes fixed on Harley, who was staring at him with wide, terrified eyes, clutching her clown doll and shaking. He bit his lip and then lowered his gun, shaking his head.

"I'm…I'm not a bad man," he whispered. "I'm not, I just…"

"I know," whispered Mr. Quinzel. "You're hungry. You just help yourself to whatever's in there," he said, nodding at the refrigerator. "Why don't you take a plate and sit down? You look exhausted."

"I…I don't understand," stammered the boy. "Why…why are you being nice to me? What do you want?"

"I want you to have a meal and a rest," said Mr. Quinzel, firmly. "So sit down and help yourself."

"You…you just wanna distract me so you can call the cops!" he stammered. "That's your game, isn't it?"

"No game, son," said Mr. Quinzel. "But we'll sit here with you if you don't trust us. Gladys, Harley, let's all sit down," he said, taking his own seat at the kitchen table.

Everyone slowly obeyed, and when the Quinzel family were seated, the boy at last took his seat, looking around suspiciously. He placed the food in his arms on the table and then began to devour it.

"What's your name, son?" asked Mr. Quinzel.

The boy wiped his mouth. "Jack," he muttered. "Jack Napier."

"And how long have you been on the streets, son?" asked Mr. Quinzel.

He didn't respond, devouring more food hungrily before he said, "Long enough."

"Where are your parents?" asked Mr. Quinzel.

"Dead," retorted Jack, coldly. "Good riddance. I don't need them."

"That's not a very nice thing to say about your parents," said Mr. Quinzel.

"You didn't know 'em," snorted Jack. "Trust me, I'm better off alone."

"I don't think anyone is better off alone, son," said Mr. Quinzel. "I think everyone deserves a loving family, and a home, and a bed…"

"Well, a guy can dream!" said Jack, with a forced laugh.

"Don't you have a home?" piped up Harley, who had overcome her fear of the stranger and was now just puzzled by him. Surely everyone had a home…

"Yeah, sure, kid," he said, shrugging. "My home is wherever I want it to be. I'm free to roam this whole city, that's my home. I'm free," he repeated, as if trying to convince himself of the truth of that statement.

"Is that why you're afraid of the cops?" asked Mr. Quinzel, quietly. "Because you're free?"

"Yeah. Because they try to take my freedom away," Jack retorted. "Stick me in orphanages or correctional facilities or some other kinda prison. Not for me, thanks," he snorted. "I can take care of myself. Always have, and I always will."

"Don't you ever get lonely?" asked Harley. "All alone, without a Mommy or a Daddy?"

"No," retorted Jack. "Why would I be lonely? That's for losers, weaklings, y'know. The kinda people that need other people. I don't need anyone."

"You look like you could use someone to fix you a square meal," said Mr. Quinzel. "And maybe buy you food, so you wouldn't have to break into other peoples' houses and steal theirs."

"I ain't stealing," he snapped. "I'm not a thief. You're only a thief if the cops catch you. I'm just…helping myself," he muttered, devouring another slice of bread.

Mr. Quinzel was silent. "I'd like to help you, Jack…" he began.

"I don't want your help!" snapped Jack. "Don't need it either! I do just fine on my own, and I don't want your charity!"

"No, just my food," said Mr. Quinzel, smiling. Jack just glared back at him. "Son, let me help you," he said, gently. "I can make up a bed on my sofa for you tonight, you can get a good night's rest, and then tomorrow we can discuss your future, how about that?"

"I ain't got time to think about the future," snapped Jack. "My present is occupied with me surviving. You can't daydream about the future if you wanna do that, not in Gotham."

"You haven't heard my offer yet," said Mr. Quinzel. "I run a business – a used car dealership here in town. Now you look like a strong, able-bodied young man, and I could use an assistant to help me fix up the cars. I've been thinking about hiring one for a few weeks now. It would be a real job, where you'd be paid real money, enough to buy food and a place to live. I'll let you stay here until you've saved up enough to afford a small place. What do you say to that?"

Jack glared at him suspiciously. "Why?" he demanded. "Why would you wanna help me like that? What's in it for you?"

"I get an assistant," retorted Mr. Quinzel. "And you need my help, Jack. That's why."

Mrs. Quinzel cleared her throat suddenly. "George, maybe we should talk about this privately before we invite Jack to stay or offer him a job…"

"All right," said Mr. Quinzel, standing up. "Jack, would you look after Harley for a moment?"

"George…" began Mrs. Quinzel, but he looked at her, and then led her out of the kitchen, keeping the door open a crack.

"You can keep an eye on her to make sure he's not hurting her," said Mr. Quinzel, gesturing to the door.

"Good. Because I was about to wonder if you'd lost your mind!" snapped Mrs. Quinzel. "We can't just take a boy in from the street! We know nothing about him! What if he's on drugs? What if he drinks? We should call the police and let them deal with him…"

"He's obviously dealt with the police before, and you've seen what the result is," said Mr. Quinzel, gesturing inside. "I do need an assistant, Gladys. Why don't we just give him a chance? I'm sure it's more than anyone else has done."

"You would let a strange boy stay here, with Harley?" demanded Mrs. Quinzel. "Doesn't the safety of your daughter mean anything?"

"Well, let's see if he's doing anything unsafe with her," said Mr. Quinzel, glancing inside the kitchen.

Harley and Jack just looked at each other, Jack still eating and Harley just holding her clown doll. "You want a plate?" she asked at last.

He shook his head, still eating. "Mommy says you should always eat with a plate, or you'll get food everywhere," said Harley. She stood up. "I'll get you one," she said, heading over to the counter. She reached up a hand, but the cupboards were still far out of her reach. Jack watched her struggling for a moment, and then stood up, heading over to help her.

"I can do it!" snapped Harley.

"Yeah, when you've grown six feet," retorted Jack, picking her up around the waist and putting her down on top of the counter. She turned to glare at him, and then pulled open the cupboard doors, grabbing a plate and handing it to him.

He took it and headed back over to the table. Harley remained on the counter, looking down at the floor below. He turned. "Can't you get down?" he asked.

"Sure I can," she retorted, putting her hands on her hips. "I'll just jump."

"Uh huh," he said, smiling as he munched some potato chips. "Might be a long way down. You could hurt yourself if you don't land on your feet."

"Well, I will," snapped Harley. "You'll see. I'll show you."

She glanced down at the floor again, and then took a deep breath…and jumped off the counter.

Her parents had raced into the room, just in time to see Jack dive to catch her. She landed in his arms, glaring up at him.

"I was fine!" she snapped as he released her safely on the ground. "You didn't need to catch me!"

"Well, next time I won't," retorted Jack. "And you can just go to the hospital with a cracked skull. See if I care."

"George!" snapped Mrs. Quinzel, beckoning her husband out of the kitchen again and leaving Harley and Jack alone. She sat back down at the table, putting her clown doll in the seat next to her.

"Who's your friend?" asked Jack.

"That's Harley Quinn," said Harley. "Daddy named her that when I bought her, because it's like my name."

"Which is?" asked Jack.

"Harleen Frances Quinzel," said Harley. "But everyone calls me Harley. So Harley Quin…"

"Yeah, I get it," interrupted Jack. "Nice gag."

"I wanna be a clown like her when I grow up," said Harley. "Daddy and Mommy took me to the circus, and the clowns were my favorite part. They were really funny."

"Is that so?" said Jack, clearly uninterested.

"You ever been to the circus?" asked Harley.

"No," he retorted. "Sounds lame."

"It ain't lame!" snapped Harley. "It's fun!"

"Not my kinda fun," he retorted.

"Well, what's your kinda fun?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I dunno. I shot a rat once. That was pretty cool."

"That's gross," said Harley, making a face. "But then I guess all boys are gross."

He grinned. "Uh huh. Just wait and see what I can do, kid," he said, filling a glass of water from the sink. He drank from it, swished it around, and then snorted the water out of his nose.

Harley giggled in shock and delight. "Gross! Do it again! Do it again!" she said, clapping.

"No, Harley, why don't we not make a mess all over the kitchen table?" said Mr. Quinzel, racing into the room. "Jack, if you've decided you wanna stay, why don't we help you make up a bed on the sofa?"

"Jack can have my bed if he wants," said Harley. "And I'll stay up and try to learn that water trick!"

"No, Harley, you're coming to bed with Mommy and Daddy tonight," said Mrs. Quinzel, firmly. "And I don't think Jack would like your bed anyway – it's pink."

"Let me find you some spare sheets," said Mr. Quinzel, heading to the linen cupboard. "And some pillows."

"Do you want one of my stuffed animals?" asked Harley of Jack. "I'm sleeping with Harley, but you can have my bear or my elephant or my…"

"I'm good, thanks, kid," said Jack.

"Ok, Jack. See you tomorrow!" called Harley, waving at him as Mrs. Quinzel carried her off to bed. "Night night!"

"Now you get some sleep, and in the morning, I'll go show you around my garage, how about that?" asked Mr. Quinzel, as he made up the sofa.

Jack nodded. "That's…fine, I guess."

"And you don't have to take the job if you don't want to," continued Mr. Quinzel.

"No, I…I do want to," stammered Jack. "I want to work, and…earn money and…have a place to go back to at night."

Mr. Quinzel smiled at him. "Well, you will, Jack," he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "But you're welcome to stay here for as long as you need. Harley seems quite taken with you."

"Well, I'm…quite taken with her," he said, smiling. "She's a sweet kid. Not that I like kids or anything – that would be lame," he said, shrugging.

Mr. Quinzel nodded. "Well, goodnight, Jack," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He flicked off the lights, and Jack sat down on the sofa. He took off his shoes and his jacket, and then lay down, basking in the feeling of soft sheets and a pillow. He was asleep in moments, safe and warm, for the first time in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jack, Jack, wake up, Jack!" shouted a voice as something launched itself on top of him. He started awake, muscles tense as he prepared to fend off an attack, when he realized that it was a child who had jumped on him, and the memories of last night came flooding back.

"Jesus, kid, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" he snapped.

"Harley, we told you not to go bother Jack!" said Mrs. Quinzel, racing after her daughter and pulling her off the sofa. "He needs his rest!"

"He's being lazy," snapped Harley. "The sun is up, so it's time for him to be up!"

Jack growled, rubbing his eyes. "Good thing I ain't used to sleeping in," he muttered, throwing the blankets off and sitting up.

"I'll start on breakfast – please don't annoy the boy, Harley," said Mrs. Quinzel. She entered the kitchen but kept the door open, watching Harley closely as she sat down next to Jack on the sofa.

"You wake up this early every morning?" he demanded.

"Uh huh," said Harley, nodding. "Mommy says it's good practice for when I start school this fall. And I'm excited to wake up – every day is full of fun and tons of stuff to do! Don't wanna waste my time sleeping!"

"You'll change your tune when you get a little older, kid, trust me," he muttered, yawning.

"Like today, Mommy and me are going for a walk in the park," continued Harley.

"Maybe, Harley," said her mother from the kitchen. "It's not very nice weather out there. We might stay inside so you don't get all wet."

"I'm not scared of a little rain," said Harley, frowning at the gray sky outside the window. "And I don't want it ruining my walk! Go away, rain!" she snapped, racing over to the window to glare at it.

"You know you can't change the weather by talking to it, right?" asked Jack.

"Nah, I can't," agreed Harley. "Because I'm just a kid." She looked at him. "You're a grown-up, why don't you try? The weather might listen to you."

"I don't think so," retorted Jack.

"C'mon, Jack, I really wanna go on my walk!" she said, stamping her foot. "Please try!"

He sighed, rolling his eyes and standing up to join her at the window. "Hey, rain, beat it," he snapped. "Her highness Princess Harleen Quinzel wants to go for her walk."

"Yeah, that's right!" snapped Harley, not picking up on his sarcasm. "So don't be mean and ruin my day, rain!"

"Talking to the weather again, Harley?" asked her father, entering the room fully dressed in a suit.

"Yeah. But it doesn't look like it wants to listen to me, or Jack," said Harley, coming over to hug her father.

He kissed her. "You keep trying, princess. Don't ever stop trying to do the impossible. Good morning, Jack," he said, smiling at the boy. "How did you sleep?"

"Would have slept better without the kid alarm at the crack of dawn," retorted Jack.

"Well, sorry, but Harley's kinda an uncontrollable bundle of energy," laughed Mr. Quinzel, picking her up. "I sometimes call her our own little Tasmanian Devil, y'know, that character from the Looney Tunes who moves around like a whirlwind, leaving chaos and destruction in its wake."

He put her down with a kiss and she began spinning in a circle, making Tasmanian Devil noises. "Breakfast is ready, Taz," said Mrs. Quinzel, smiling as she popped her head out of the kitchen.

Harley raced over to the table and Jack and Mr. Quinzel followed her, as Mrs. Quinzel placed a plate of pancakes down.

"Hurry up and grab some, Jack, before Harley eats them all," said Mr. Quinzel, smiling at his daughter. "She also has the appetite of the Tasmanian Devil."

Harley gave a roar, and Jack grinned. "So, ya like Looney Tunes cartoons, huh?" he asked.

"Yep," she said, nodding. "They're funny."

"Well, sufferin' succotash!" exclaimed Jack, in a perfect imitation of Sylvester the Cat.

Harley stared at him. "You can do voices!" she cried, giggling in delight. "That's so cool! Do more, do more!"

He continued with a perfect impression of Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd. "What's up, Doc? You wascally wabbit!"

"Wow, Jack!" she said, clearly impressed. "If we have to stay inside because of the rain today, can you teach me to do voices like you?"

"Jack has to come to work with me today, Harley," said Mr. Quinzel. "But maybe when he gets home."

"It's easy – just watch a lotta TV and practice lots," said Jack, smiling at her. "Why doncha do that if it rains today, and you can show me when I get home, how about that?"

"Ok, Jack," she said, nodding. She turned to the window. "You hear that, rain? I guess you can stay if you wanna. I'm gonna learn how to do voices instead. Sufferin' succotash," she repeated. "Sufferin' succotash. Sufferin' succotash."

"Thank you, Jack," sighed Mrs. Quinzel, smiling at her daughter as she stroked her hair back. "I know this isn't going to get at all tiresome anytime soon."

"He's just trying to help, Gladys," said Mr. Quinzel.

"Can Jack stay with us for a long time?" asked Harley. "So he can help me get just as good as doing voices as him?"

"Jack is welcome to stay as long as he needs to," said Mr. Quinzel. "Isn't that right, Gladys?"

Mrs. Quinzel nodded. "Yes, dear," she sighed, gathering up the dishes.

"I'll bet I really impress you by the time you get home today," said Harley, as Mr. Quinzel went to get his and Jack's jacket.

"I'll bet you will," agreed Jack. "I mean, you've already got the Tasmanian Devil down pat."

She roared at him, grinning. "Bye, princess," said Mr. Quinzel, picking up Harley.

"Bye, Daddy," she said, kissing him. "Have a good day!"

Mr. Quinzel put her down, and she held out her arms for Jack to pick her up. "Have a good day!" she repeated, as Jack obeyed, and she planted a kiss on his cheek. "Bye, Jack!"

"Bye, kid," he said, putting her down. "Have fun today."

"I always do!" she said, grinning. She waved them off as they headed down the stairs of the apartment and out to Mr. Quinzel's car.

"She's a good kid," said Mr. Quinzel, as he climbed into the driver's seat. "A handful, but a good kid."

"Yeah," agreed Jack, nodding. He sat in silence as they drove, and Mr. Quinzel glanced at him.

"You ok?" he asked.

Jack shrugged. "Just…nervous, I guess. I've never had a job before, not a real one, and my old man always told me that I was…a slow learner. And a screw up. I just don't wanna disappoint you…"

"You won't, son," interrupted Mr. Quinzel. "Everyone's nervous their first day, and you'll probably make some mistakes, but that's all part of learning the job."

Jack nodded, but said nothing. "My old man was in cars too," said Mr. Quinzel. "And my first day working with him, I blew up a brand new engine." He laughed. "I thought I had blown up the whole car – there was smoke everywhere, and the alarm went off, so the fire department came rushing over…and my old man was as steamed as that engine. I'll never forget the look on his face!"

He grinned at Jack. "So you can't do any worse than me."

Jack managed a smile. "What did your Dad to do you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" asked Mr. Quinzel.

"I mean as punishment for screwing up and blowing up the engine," said Jack.

"He didn't punish me," said Mr. Quinzel. "It was an accident."

Jack shrugged. "My old man would have belted me good," he muttered.

Mr. Quinzel was silent. "Nobody is going to belt you, Jack," he said, gently. "Not anymore. You do know that…people don't treat each other like that, don't you? With violence and threats of violence?"

"All the people I've ever met do," retorted Jack. "You'd think you'd know the truth as an adult. It's great to give kids all that crap about being decent and kind to each other, but out in the real world…you realize it's all just a joke."

"No, it's not, Jack," said Mr. Quinzel, gently. "We choose the kind of people we want to be, no matter how life treats us. And you can choose to be a man to be feared, like your father, or a decent human being. And I hope…now that you're staying with people who…aren't all bad…that you'll make the right choice."

Jack said nothing, staring out the window again. "I do wanna be a good man, Mr. Quinzel," he said at last. "But I don't know how."

Mr. Quinzel smiled. "Well, the first day's always rough, like I said," he murmured. "But you'll get the hang of it, Jack. I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

"I told you, Mommy, I ain't afraid of the rain!" said Harleen Quinzel. "And Jack says he doesn't mind!"

"I really don't, Mrs. Quinzel," said Jack.

"Go on, Gladys, let them go out," said Mr. Quinzel, looking up from his newspaper. "Harley's tired of being cooped up in here."

"She'll catch her death of cold out there!" snapped Mrs. Quinzel, gesturing to the rain outside.

"It's just drizzling," said Mr. Quinzel. "We'll make sure she's bundled up warm, and Jack'll make sure she's not out for too long. An hour, two at most, ok, Jack?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Quinzel," he said, nodding.

Mrs. Quinzel glared at her husband. "George, can I have a word in private, please?" she muttered, gesturing toward their room. He nodded, standing up and putting down his paper.

"I don't want to send Harley out alone with that boy," she snapped when the door was shut.

"Gladys, it's been weeks now," said Mr. Quinzel. "Why don't you trust Jack?"

"I do trust him," she snapped. "I trust him to behave himself under supervision. But out there, in the streets of Gotham…who knows what he got up to out there before he came here? Maybe he'll try to get his hands on some drugs, or take Harley to some disreputable place…"

"Gladys, he's not going to put her in any danger," interrupted Mr. Quinzel. "Haven't you seen the two of them together? He's crazy about her."

"Don't you ever worry that you're far too trusting, George Quinzel?" she demanded. "I don't want to risk our daughter's safety with some boy from the streets! If something happened to her, I would never forgive myself, and neither would you!"

"No," agreed Mr. Quinzel. "But it won't, Gladys. Jack is a good boy, and I trust him like my own son. He's a hard worker – I've never seen such dedication to a job, and he picks things up fast. If he encountered some danger out with Harley, he would use that same quick thinking to keep her safe. He'd probably do a better job than either of us, anyway, since he's used to having to think on his feet."

She glared at him, but nodded. "He brings her back in one hour," she muttered. "Or I'm calling the police."

Mr. Quinzel nodded. "Good news, Harley," he said, returning to the living room. "Your Mommy says you and Jack can go outside!"

"Yay!" cried Harley, clapping her hands.

"Let's get you bundled up," said Mrs. Quinzel, picking her up and carrying her to her room.

"Gladys wants you to be back in an hour," said Mr. Quinzel to Jack, sitting down and picking up his paper again. "So it's important that you obey her."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Quinzel," said Jack, nodding. "I will, sir."

"I know you will, Jack," he said, smiling at him. "You're a good kid. I'm gonna miss you when you've found a place of your own, and so will Harley."

"I don't think Mrs. Quinzel will," said Jack.

"That's not your fault," said Mr. Quinzel, gently. "Gladys is a very practical woman, and that's why I love her. She's also very careful, and concerned about keeping her family safe, even at the risk of seeming unkind to others. But you continue to be kind and polite and take care of Harley, and she'll come round. She won't have a choice."

"Let's go, Jack!" said Harley, skipping out of her room dressed in a thick coat, hat, scarf, and gloves.

"Be back in an hour!" repeated Mrs. Quinzel, waving at them from the door as they left the apartment and strolled out into the streets of Gotham.

"Hold my hand, Harley," said Jack, as they walked down the street toward the park. "Don't want you getting lost in these crowds."

He walked slower so that her smaller legs could keep up with him, and was keeping his eyes fixed on Harley, so that he didn't see the man smoking in the alleyway they were passing.

"Well, well, well, Jack Napier," said the man, and Jack looked up in apprehension at the figure.

"Mr. Valestra," he said. "Good to see you."

"Hi, Jack's friend!" said Harley, waving at him.

Mr. Valestra smiled, puffing out a cloud of smoke at Harley. "Who's the kid?" he asked.

"Don't think that's any of your business, Mr. Valestra," retorted Jack, coldly.

Mr. Valestra chuckled. "Speaking of business, Jack, I ain't seen your Pop around for a couple months. Hope he's all right?"

"He's dead," retorted Jack.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Mr. Valestra, in an insincere voice. "Was it the cops?"

Jack shrugged. "Dunno. Just know there was a raid, and a lotta shooting and screaming. Got outta there as fast as I could."

"And where are you staying now?" asked Mr. Valestra, casually, tapping out his cigarette.

"I also don't think that's any of your business, Mr. Valestra," retorted Jack. "My father is dead, your business with him is over, and we don't have anything more to talk about."

Mr. Valestra grinned. "Ok, kiddo, no need to take that tone," he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a card. "Just gimme a call if you ever want a job where you can earn a lotta dough, and fast. Your Pop was a good shot, and I know he taught you well. For his sake, and for your mother's, you're welcome in my gang anytime."

He stamped out the cigarette butt, and then tipped his hat, smiling. "See you around, kid."

"Bye, Jack's friend!" said Harley, waving after him cheerfully.

"He's not my friend," growled Jack, stuffing the card into his pocket. "He used to be my Dad's boss, and he's a nasty piece of work. Although my Mom didn't used to think so, judging by that time I walked in on them together…"

"What were they doing?" asked Harley.

He looked at her. "Uh…they were…uh…hugging. Y'know, people who like each other a lot give each other…hugs," he finished.

"Yep. I know that," said Harley, nodding. She held out her arms to Jack and he smiled, picking her up.

"Did you want a hug, or are you being lazy and asking me to carry you?" he asked.

"Both," she retorted, smiling at him. "You can put me down when we get to the park."

"That's four blocks away!" he said.

"So? I'm not that heavy," she snapped.

"You ever had to carry yourself?" he demanded.

"That's a stupid question," she said. "Anyway, I don't wanna step in any puddles."

"Why not?" he asked. "What kinda lame kid are you? Kids love jumping in puddles!"

"Mommy says it's not allowed," retorted Harley.

Jack grinned. "That's why it's so fun," he said.

They arrived at the park, which was mostly empty because of the weather. Harley raced over to the swings and frowned. "We can't swing on those!" she said, pointing.

Jack saw that the dirt underneath the swings had filled with rain water, leaving giant pools of mud underneath them instead. He grinned.

"Perfect for a…mud fight!" he shouted, grabbing a handful of mud and flinging it at Harley. It hit her and she shrieked, stunned for a moment. Then she grabbed some mud of her own and threw it at Jack. Soon they were laughing and chasing each other around, flinging handfuls of mud at each other until they were both covered in it.

"Mommy is not gonna like this," said Harley, looking at her mud-stained clothes as they headed home about twenty minutes later.

"The rain will wash most of it off," said Jack, wiping his face. "Or you could always jump in some puddles and try to splash yourself with water. Like this," he said, leaping off the curb into the huge puddle of water that had formed in the grate.

Harley shrieked in delight as water splashed onto her. She looked for another puddle by the sidewalk and leaped into it, following the puddles down the pavement. And then she saw a giant one in the middle of the road and unthinkingly raced out toward it.

Jack saw her running into the street, and then he saw the car heading straight for her. "Harley, no!" he shouted, his heart leaping into his throat. He raced into the road, leaping in front of her and shielding her with his body just as the car slammed on its brakes, stopping an inch from hitting them both.

A man got out of the driver's seat. "What on earth do you think you're doing?!" he demanded.

"What do you think _you're_ doing?!" demanded Jack in return. "Didn't you see the kid?!"

"I did, just in time!" retorted the man. "What was she doing playing in the middle of the street! I assume you have the responsibility of looking after her – why would you allow her to do such a dangerous thing?!"

"Alfred?" said a voice, as a man climbed out of the back of the car. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine, Mr. Wayne, I'm just taking care of it," retorted the driver, turning.

"Bruce, stay in the car," said the other man, Mr. Wayne, gesturing to a child who had been about to climb out. "What happened?" he asked, approaching them.

"These children were playing in the street, and were very lucky I braked in time," retorted Alfred, gesturing at Jack and Harley.

Jack clutched Harley tightly to him, and she clung to him, looking up at the man with fear in her eyes. Mr. Wayne studied Jack carefully.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

"No, sir, I don't think so," growled Jack.

"Yes, I do," said Mr. Wayne, nodding. "You were at the trial of Joseph Napier when he was sent down for first degree murder. My friend Henry Dent prosecuted him. You're his son, aren't you?"

"I was," retorted Jack, coldly. "He's dead."

"I see," said Mr. Wayne, looking at Harley now. "And is this your sister? You don't do a very good job looking after her, do you? I'm not sure why anyone would let you be responsible for taking care of a child…"

"It's none of your business who she is," growled Jack, shoving Harley behind him protectively. "You're just lucky your goddamn driver didn't hit her, or I'd do worse to you than my father did to anyone, you rich twit!"

Mr. Wayne smiled. "Like father, like son, I see," he said. "Alfred, you must be more careful driving in these kinds of neighborhoods – some street children can be very careless. You'd think they'd be street smart after living on them for so long."

He turned to climb back in the backseat. "Do better at looking after her in future, Mr. Napier," he said. "Or she'll end up like your father. As will you, if you don't watch your mouth around your betters."

He slammed the car door and Alfred drove off without another word. As the car passed them, Jack saw a boy about Harley's age staring at them.

"Bruce, it's rude to stare at the less fortunate," said Mr. Wayne, rolling up his window as they passed.

"They're so dirty, Father!" said the boy, but then they drove past and were gone.

Jack tried to control his temper, kneeling down and seeing to Harley. "You ok?" he asked, gently.

She nodded, shaking. "Little scared, but…thanks for saving me, Jack," she said, hugging him tightly.

"Hey, I'll always be looking out for you, kid," he said, hugging her back. "Always. That's a promise."


	4. Chapter 4

"What on earth happened to you?!" demanded Mrs. Quinzel at seeing the state of Harley's wet and muddied clothes when they returned home. "Get out of those at once or you'll catch your death of cold!"

She turned on the fire in the grate and Harley sat down in front of it. "Jack, can you please help me?" she asked, holding out her boots to him.

He nodded, pulling off her muddied boots and placing them down by the fire, and then helping her off with her coat. "We…uh…fell in some mud," invented Jack. "And then tried to wash it off by jumping in puddles…"

"And then a car nearly hit me, but Jack saved my life," said Harley, casually.

Mrs. Quinzel stared at her. "What?" she gasped.

"I didn't see the car in the road, but Jack did, and he jumped in front of me," explained Harley, calmly. "He saved me, and then he called the guy in it a rich twit and his goddamn…"

"That's enough, Harley," interrupted Jack, hastily.

Mrs. Quinzel stared at Jack as he helped Harley pull off her hat, gloves, and scarf. "I would appreciate if you didn't use language like that in front of my daughter," she said, quietly.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry, ma'am," said Jack, hanging Harley's wet things over the fireplace.

"And when she's out with you, I expect constant supervision so that she doesn't run into streets," she continued.

"Yes, ma'am – I won't let it happen again," said Jack.

Mrs. Quinzel nodded. "And…thank you so much for saving my baby girl!" she gasped, embracing Jack suddenly. "Oh God, Jack! I don't know what would have happened without you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

She kissed both his cheeks. "Now you warm up there while I make you both some hot cocoa with marshmallows! And then, Harley, you're taking a bath!"

Harley made a face as her mother disappeared into the kitchen. "I hate baths," she muttered.

"Well, you don't want that mud all over your face forever," said Jack, smiling and wiping some off. "You don't look very pretty."

"You think I'm pretty without it?" she asked.

"Sure I do," he said, nodding. "Prettiest girl I've ever seen."

"Yeah?" she asked. "How many girls have you seen?"

"Lots," he said.

"You ever kissed a girl?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, shrugging.

"On the lips?" she pressed.

"Why are you so curious?" he asked, grinning.

She shrugged, flexing her toes in front of the fire. "If you kissed a girl on the lips, you must have thought she was pretty. So I can't be the prettiest girl you've ever seen if you've kissed someone else."

He laughed. "Only you would take a compliment and try to think of a reason why it can't be true!" he chuckled, wiping more mud from her face. "But it is true, trust me. You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen. And you need to learn to think less, kid."

"I don't wanna think less," retorted Harley. "Stupid people think less. Smart people think more. And I wanna be a smart person."

"You're already a smart_ aleck_," he retorted, ruffling her hair. "Believe me, thinking too much can be a bad thing."

"There's no such thing as thinking too much," said Harley, frowning. "That's like saying you're too smart. You can't be too smart, or too pretty. They're good things to be, so you can't have too much of them."

"You're so young, kid!" he laughed. "And too smart, and too pretty for your own good," he added, kissing the top of her head. "Ew, mud!" he said, coughing and making a face.

"Maybe you shouldn't have thrown it at me!" giggled Harley.

"Thrown? I thought Jack said you fell," said Mrs. Quinzel, entering the room at that moment with a tray of hot chocolate.

"Oh…yeah..after we fell in the mud, we kinda got into a…mud fight," admitted Jack. "We figured we were already covered in it, so why not?"

Mrs. Quinzel sighed. "Finish your cocoa, Harley – I'm filling up your bath."

Jack and Harley sipped the cocoa through straws, and then suddenly Jack started blowing bubbles in it. Harley giggled, imitating him.

"Honestly, Jack, you really do teach my daughter the worst habits," sighed Mrs. Quinzel, re-entering the room. "Come on, Harley – if you're just going to play with your cocoa, it's bath time."

"Save me, Jack!" screamed Harley as she was dragged off.

"Not this time, kiddo!" he laughed.

"Meanie!" she said, sticking her tongue out at him as she was pulled into the bathroom and the door slammed. Jack chuckled, sipping his own cocoa in front of the fire.

"Gladys told me about what you did for Harley," said Mr. Quinzel, entering the room suddenly. "Thank you, Jack."

He shrugged. "I don't deserve thanks – it was just a natural instinct to protect her."

Mr. Quinzel nodded. "It's a natural instinct of a good man to protect the innocent," he agreed.

Jack shrugged again. "I don't think I'm a good man, Mr. Quinzel."

"I do," he said, sitting down next to him.

"Well, you don't know…everything about me," murmured Jack. "My past, my upbringing, my…family."

"A man can't help his circumstances," said Mr. Quinzel. "His actions are what make him a good man."

Jack was silent. "My Dad…was a hitman for the Valestra gang," he said. "He was in and outta jail my whole life. And my Mom…never wanted a kid, y'know. So I was alone a lot growing up, but I was always surrounded by crooks and thugs and criminals, bad types of people. And then one night I woke up to…gunfire and screaming and…and I ran. I got outta there. I still don't know what happened, some kinda hit, I guess. I saw pictures of my parents' bodies later on discarded scraps of newspaper, and that's how I found out they were dead. From someone's thrown out, yesterday's news."

"I'm sorry, Jack," said Mr. Quinzel, gently.

He nodded. "I've…done bad things, y'know?" he said. "From an early age, I…I never knew right from wrong. And my parents and the gang thought it was funny, making a kid do bad things because he didn't know any better. I stole and lied and cheated and did tons of other stuff. I can't just erase the memory of all that just because I wanna be a good man now. I can't forget who I used to be. And there are people out there who…won't let me forget," he added, glancing out the window.

Mr. Quinzel said nothing for a moment. "Jack, what do you want out of life?" he asked at last.

Jack shrugged. "To be happy, I guess. Isn't that what everyone wants?"

"Yeah," agreed Mr. Quinzel. "But being happy means different things to different people. To some people it means money and power and influence, and to some people it means a home and a family. That's my definition of it anyway," he said, smiling. "What's yours?"

Jack shrugged again. "I…I dunno, Mr. Quinzel. I'm happy when…I do a good job at work, or…when I'm with Harley."

"So maybe you're a family kinda guy, same as me," said Mr. Quinzel, nodding. "And now think about Harley. Do you think she gives a damn what you used to do?"

Jack shook his head. "No. She adores the guy you are now. A good man," said Mr. Quinzel. "And trust me, Jack, it'll be the same for anyone who loves you, wife, kids, whatever. They won't care what kinda past you had, they'll just love who you are. You don't need to erase your past to be happy. You just need to embrace the present."

Jack nodded slowly. "Harley's lucky to have a Dad like you," he said at last, smiling at him.

Mr. Quinzel smiled back. "Well, I always wanted a son too," he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now c'mon, get out of those muddy clothes and get cleaned up for dinner. Gladys is making meatloaf."


	5. Chapter 5

"All right, let's get you tucked in, kiddo," said Jack, gesturing to Harley's bed. It had been six months since he had appeared at the Quinzel's home, and Harley and he had become completely inseparable. Whenever he was at home, they were together, and whenever he was at work, Harley kept glancing at the clock, asking her mother when Jack and Daddy would be home. Sometimes she and her mother would take a walk to the garage to see them, and Jack showed Harley all around the cars, explaining how they worked and what he did to fix them. She hung on his every word. And whenever he came home from work, she would rush to show him her new drawing or voice or game she had been playing. Jack was always interested, and would indulge her in whatever she wanted to do. He was also capable of keeping up with her energy level, which was no mean feat.

On his days off, they would walk to the park, or stay inside playing games or watching TV. Jack would teach her how to imitate the voices of the cartoon characters, and lately she had insisted on him tucking her into bed and reading her bedtime story, because he did the best voices.

Harley bounded up into her bed and he pulled the sheets up around her and her clown doll. "There. All snuggled up and warm?" he asked.

She nodded. "Where's my story?" she asked, noticing that he wasn't holding a book.

"I'll tell you one in a second," he said. "First I gotta give you some news."

"News?" repeated Harley. "News is boring. That's why we watch cartoons."

"Well, this news ain't boring," he said. "I've found a home."

"You already have a home," retorted Harley, frowning. "Your home is here, with me."

"I mean a home of my own," he said. "My own place."

Harley stared at him. "Why would you want your own place when you have a home here with me?" she asked. "Nobody wants to live alone, not when they have a family. And you're my family, Jack."

"Well, I can't live here on your parents' charity forever," said Jack, gently. "You wouldn't understand, kid. But a guy my age has to take on some responsibilities, and get some independence. I gotta have my own place, and make my own life."

"Why wouldn't you wanna make your life with me?" asked Harley, looking hurt.

He sighed. "C'mon, kid, this ain't a big deal," he said. "I'll still visit you lots, and I'll still be working for your Daddy, so you can come and visit us both at the garage. I just won't be living here on your sofa anymore. I'll have my own room, and my own space, and you can visit me sometimes too, how about that? My apartment's only a few blocks away…"

"But…but I don't want you to leave, Jack!" she stammered, tears in her eyes. "Who's gonna read me bedtime stories and tuck me in?"

"Well, your Mommy and Daddy, like they used to before I came along," he replied.

"But they can't do voices like you, Jack!" she cried.

"Well…how about I come over once or twice every week around your bedtime to read to you?" asked Jack.

"I don't want you to be here once or twice a week!" she sobbed. "I want you to be here all the time!"

She burst into tears. "Hey, sweetheart, c'mon," he said, hugging her gently. "This wasn't meant to hurt you. If it were up to me, I'd take you with me, but I think your parents might object to me kidnapping their daughter," he said, smiling at her and brushing the tears from her face. "But they probably couldn't blame me for doing it. Who wouldn't want a cute little Tasmanian Devil living with them?"

"I don't want you to go, Jack," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too, kiddo," he murmured. "But you'll still see me all the time. It'll be like I never left. I'll come over so much you'll probably get sick of me."

"Promise?" she whispered.

"I promise," he repeated, nodding. "So c'mon, keep that cute little chin up, huh?" he said, touching her chin.

She nodded. "That's my girl," he said, kissing her forehead. "And now how about I read you that story? You pick," he said, holding out several books to her. She didn't hesitate, pointing to her favorite one.

"_Joker the Clown Joins the Circus_ again?" he asked.

She nodded firmly. "And you have to do the voices," she said, cuddling her clown doll.

He sighed. "Man, I'm getting bored of this story," he muttered. "Ok. Once upon a time there was a clown named the Joker…"

"Jack?" she interrupted.

"Yeah?" he said, looking up at her.

"Can you please…hold me?" she asked, gazing at him.

He smiled, and then climbed into bed next to her, propping up the pillows and holding Harley as she sat up in his arms, with the book between them. Harley stared at the pictures of the clown with the green hair and the purple suit and cuddled Jack tightly, trying to enjoy the story and not think about the fact that he was leaving.

She fell asleep on the story, and Jack was left in the awkward position of trying to get up without waking her. He managed to disentangle her from his embrace and slowly lay her down on the pillows, covering her up and flicking on the nightlight. Then he turned to go.

"Jack?" whispered Harley, softly.

"Yeah, sweets?" he asked, turning at the door.

"I love you," she said.

He smiled. "I love you too, sweetheart," he said, coming over to kiss her forehead again. "Now sleep tight."

He left her, shutting the door, and returned to the living room, where Harley's parents were watching TV.

"How did she take it?" asked Mr. Quinzel, looking up at him.

"She was pretty upset," said Jack, sitting down on the sofa next to them. "But I promised her I'd visit a lot. I mean, I'm really gonna miss her too."

"You know you don't have to go, Jack," said Mrs. Quinzel, gently. "Both George and I are happy for you to stay. And Harley would be over the moon."

"Thanks, Mrs. Quinzel, but I've been a burden on you long enough," he said, smiling at her. "You've both already done so much for me, and now I have to do some stuff for myself. I want to be independent and responsible now."

"That's only natural, for a boy your age," agreed Mr. Quinzel, nodding. "But please remember we're always here to help you, Jack. And if you ever need to come back home, you're welcome here."

"Thank you," he said. Then he forced a smile. "But it's not like I'm going far away, or getting a new job or anything. Like I said to Harley, this isn't a big deal. I'll see you all the time at work and stuff - I'm just moving out."

"Yeah," said Mr. Quinzel. "But it's hard having your family move out, even if they're not going very far. And you were really starting to feel like family, Jack."

He smiled sincerely now, and they watched TV in silence. "Well, I'm going to bed," said Mrs. Quinzel at last, standing up. "Goodnight, Jack," she said, kissing his cheek. "You'll always have a home here."

"Thanks, Mrs. Quinzel," he said, hugging her. "Goodnight."

"I'll join you in a minute, Gladys," said Mr. Quinzel, as she left the room.

Jack cleared his throat. "Look, Mr. Quinzel, I know I can never repay you for your kindness to me. But I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done…you could have just called the police or shot me or chased me off, and God knows where I'd be then. But for the first time in my life, I feel…happy. And proud of myself, for doing real work, and getting a real place of my own that I'm paying for by doing that work. I can't thank you enough."

"Don't thank me, Jack," he said. "Everything you've achieved has been because of your hard work and dedication. You deserve to be proud of yourself. I didn't have much to do with it, aside from employing you. And letting you stay…well, that's only what any decent person would have done when they saw the state of you that night."

"Well…I haven't dealt with many decent people in my life," he murmured. "So it seems almost miraculous to me."

Mr. Quinzel smiled at him. "You're a good boy, Jack," he said. "I'm going to miss having you around the house. But I'm glad you still want to work for me – I don't know what I'd do at the garage without you."

He stood up, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now get some sleep. You've got a long day ahead of you, moving in to your new place after work."

"Well, it's not like I have that much stuff to move!" laughed Jack. "I only got one possession, aside from the clothes on my back!"

"Yeah," agreed Mr. Quinzel. "I understand the importance of having a weapon in Gotham, especially if you've got a home to defend now. But I hope you'll never need to use your gun again."

"So do I, Mr. Quinzel," agreed Jack, nodding. "Believe me, so do I."


	6. Chapter 6

**Fifteen Years Later**

"…Harley, are you even listening to me?"

Harleen Quinzel hadn't been listening to the constant chattering of her friend as they walked down the streets of Gotham City – she had been thinking.

"Uh…no, sorry, Julia – I was miles away," she said, smiling apologetically.

Her friend snorted. "You're always miles away these days, Harley. What could you possibly be thinking about so hard?"

Harley shrugged. "Things," she replied. "You know our lives are about to really change, Julia. Aren't I allowed to think about the future?"

"They're not changing too much," retorted her friend. "High school, college, it's just more school. Plus it's not like we're going anywhere – Gotham University may be all the way across town, but it's not like we're moving to a different city or state. My folks even suggested that I keep living with them while I'm studying, to save money, but I think I've talked them into letting me have a dorm room. I feel like if I didn't get a little independence from my parents, I'd go crazy! Plus you can't have guys over at your parents' house."

"Yeah," agreed Harley, who had tuned out her friend's babbling again.

"Speaking of guys, there's a rumor going around the school that Ricky Sorkin is gonna ask you to prom," continued Julia. "You two would make such a cute couple, don't you think?"

"Uh huh," said Harley, still not listening.

"So you're gonna say yes, right?" asked Julia.

"Uh…maybe…I don't know," said Harley, who hadn't heard the question.

"Oh, c'mon, Harley!" said Julia. "You can't spend your whole high school career never having dated anybody! That's like the whole point of high school – teenage romances!"

"Funny, I thought the point of high school was school," retorted Harley. "Education, y'know."

"There are different types of education," retorted Julia. "You don't wanna go off to college never even having kissed a boy, do you? Everyone will think you're lame, and nobody will want to date you!"

"Julia, I just don't wanna date anyone right now, all right?" snapped Harley. "Why can't you leave it alone?"

"Because I feel bad for you!" she said. "You're missing out on all the fun of being young and in love!"

"Most of the time, I hear it ain't so fun," she retorted. "Anyway, I'm just not interested, so please drop it, Julia."

Julia shrugged. "It's your life. But I feel bad for Ricky. He's a nice guy, and he's clearly pretty crazy about you."

"Uh huh," repeated Harley, tuning her out again as they reached her father's garage.

"Harley, Julia, how was school?" asked Mr. Quinzel, looking up as they entered.

"Fine. We're not doing much these last few weeks before the end of the year," said Julia, shrugging. "Most people are just getting excited about prom."

"Oh yeah? You going to that, Harley?" asked her father.

"I dunno – I don't think anyone would ask me," retorted Harley, putting down her bag. "Uh…is Jack around?"

"In the back," replied Mr. Quinzel, nodding.

"Thanks," said Harley, heading back into the garage, where most of the work on the cars was done. All types of models sat around, dismantled or partially dismantled, and in the midst of these sat the man Harley had been thinking about all through the school day and on her walk home.

She knew it was wrong to be thinking about a man who was a lot older than her, a man who had watched her grow up, a man who she should have thought of as a brother. But her feelings for him were of a completely different nature entirely, and she felt that that was wrong. That there was something sick and disgusting about her, to think of Jack as anything more than a member of her family.

But she did. She couldn't help what she thought or felt, and the more she told herself it was wrong, the more this seemed to perversely encourage her mind to fantasize.

She remembered very clearly the day when it had all changed, when she began to notice him as a man. They had been sitting in the park together, chatting while Harley did her homework. Suddenly, a gust of wind had blown the pages of her homework away, across the park and into the lake. Jack hadn't hesitated a moment, stripping off his jacket and jumping into the lake, collecting all the pages from where they had scattered over the water. Harley watched him from the shore, intending to scold him for getting himself all wet, but as he emerged from the water, she found she could only stare open-mouthed at the way the shirt clung to his chest, the fabric outlining every bulge of his muscles, which were very impressive for a man of his thin build. She managed to stammer a thank you, and then went back to work, feeling her cheeks burning. She hadn't been able to sleep that night, just imagining his body, imagining him removing that wet shirt while she waited on the bed, breathless with anticipation, his intense green eyes fixed on her in desire…

After that, she began seeing and thinking about him in ways that she knew she could never voice to anyone. But she had no interest in the other boys at school, and whenever her thoughts wandered, they wandered almost against her will to Jack, to his gorgeous eyes, and his beautiful smile, and his wonderful laugh, and his toned body, which looked even more tempting than usual, covered as he was in grease and dirt from the cars. She caught herself before she could start imagining him slowly stripping off his dirty garments while she waited for him in the shower…

"Hi, Jack," she said, casually, hoping her face didn't betray her thoughts.

He looked up, beaming at her. "Hi, kiddo! How was school?" he asked, standing up and wiping his hands on a rag.

She shrugged. "Boring. Not much going on at the end of the year."

"Well, you'll be off to college soon, and there's all kindsa excitement there, so I hear," said Jack. "Can't speak from experience, though."

"Maybe you should come with me," she said. "People go back to college at all ages, y'know."

"Nah, I wouldn't be smart enough to get in," he replied, reaching for a wrench. "All I know is practical things, not all your book smarts that you learn in school."

"It's not that hard – I could teach you," she said.

He laughed, tightening some bolts on the car's wheel. "It's not hard for _you_, because you're a bright kid," he retorted. "Straight A student, off to college to be a doctor, on a scholarship…"

He finished tightening the wheel, and then smiled at her. "But you always were a smart kid. Gonna miss having you come around here every day after school, though."

"Well, I ain't going far," she replied. "I'll still pop round from time to time."

She cleared her throat. "Or maybe…I could move in with you."

He laughed. "Why would you wanna do that?"

She shrugged. "I don't really wanna keep living with my parents while I go to college, and I don't relish sharing a dorm room with Julia or some stranger. But you've got your own place, and it's big enough for two…"

"Have you talked to your parents about this?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Not yet," she said. "I wanted to talk to you about it first."

He shook his head slowly. "Believe me, kid, as much as it'd be great having you around all the time…I'm used to living on my own. Anyway, it would be awkward for you if you wanted to have your friends over, or your boyfriend over, having an old guy like me in the way…"

"I don't have a boyfriend," she interrupted, hastily. "And you wouldn't be in the way, honest."

"Well, have you ever thought that maybe you would be?" he asked, gently. "I don't mean that unkindly, kid, but…I got my own life, y'know? And the people I have over sometimes…it would be awkward."

"Oh," she said, feeling her heart break. "You mean you don't want me in the way of your…girlfriend or someone, right?"

"Yeah, that's right," he said, nodding. He smiled at her. "Attractive guy like me has tons of dames after him, y'know?"

"Yeah…I know," she stammered, hoping the slow crushing of her heart wasn't obvious from her face. "Ok, then. It was a stupid idea anyway!" she laughed. "Just a joke! I'll…uh…see you around," she said, heading back out of the garage.

Jack stared after her, and then let out the breath he had been holding. "That was a close one," he muttered to himself as he flipped open the hood of the car. "God, the only thing that could make this whole situation worse is if I was actually dumb enough to say yes…"

He tried to focus on his work, but his thoughts wandered to the fantasy of Harley living with him. He knew in that kind of close proximity, day after day, his defenses would crumble and he'd never be able to avoid confessing his feelings, or keep his hands off her…

"You're a sick bastard, Jack Napier," he muttered, tinkering under the hood. "You watched her grow up, she's like a little sister to you…"

But he hadn't had these feelings for Harley until very recently, until he had suddenly noticed she had become a woman. They had gone shopping together – Harley needed a dress for a friend's fancy eighteenth birthday party, and was complaining because she never wore dresses, and didn't know what to get. Jack was no expert in dresses, but he had some sense of what looked nice on women, and so he had come along. They had stopped off in a department store, found some possible candidates, and Harley went to try them on. She had emerged in one to show him, and he found he couldn't speak. He could only stare at her, stunned, her beautiful figure suddenly revealed in the dress, her gorgeous blue eyes and her red lips pouting in annoyance. Lips that had kissed him a thousand times, but were suddenly different now, suddenly the round, full lips of a woman…

"She's about half your age," he muttered, trying to distract himself from thoughts of Harley. "She's not a woman. She's a teenage girl. And you're a disgusting old man who needs to get himself under control. Nothing is ever going to happen between you two."

It would be wrong if something did, wrong for so many reasons. Their age difference, the fact that he had watched her grow up, the fact that she was the daughter of his employer, and benefactor. He couldn't repay Mr. Quinzel's numerous kindnesses to him by seducing his daughter. But he also couldn't get her out of his mind.

"Maybe this college thing will be good for both of us," he muttered. "She won't be around here as often, and I can try to get over her. She'll probably meet a nice guy at college, a nice, smart, young guy, who will make her very happy."

He slammed the hood of the car shut. "That's what a classy dame like her deserves," he murmured. "A nice, smart, young guy who will make her very happy. And I'm…not that guy," he said, wiping the grease from his hands again. "No, siree."


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, have fun at your first day of college tomorrow, Harley," said Mr. Quinzel, standing up from the family dinner table and raising his glass. "We sure are gonna miss you around here."

"Hey, a couple weeks with Julia as my roommate and I might be begging to come back here!" laughed Harley. "She'll talk my ears off! But I'll miss you too, Dad. All of you," she added, glancing around the table at her mother and finally fixing on Jack. "But I'll come back to stay every weekend, how about that?"

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Harley," said her mother, gently. "You'll be busy with friends and social activities on the weekends, as you should be. We want you to make the most of your college experience and not worry about us. That's assuming I let you go tomorrow," she added, hugging her daughter tightly. "Which I won't."

She kissed her cheek. "My baby girl is all grown up," she whispered, with tears in her eyes. "And your father and I couldn't be prouder of you, Harley."

Harley smiled, kissing her cheek. "I know, Mom. And I will be back often. I won't let friends and social activities keep me away from what's really important. The people I love."

She glanced over at Jack again, who stood up, raising his own glass. "Well, good luck, Harley," he said, smiling at her. "Not that you need it. You've always been too smart for your own good, and now you're gonna learn how to put those smarts to good use by helping people. Your future patients sure are lucky – they're getting one helluva dame as a headshrinker."

"Thanks, Jack," said Harley, beaming at him. "I hope that'll be true."

"Trust me, kid," he said. "You're gonna go far."

She smiled at him, blushing, and then cast her eyes back down to her meal to prevent herself from voicing her feelings toward him, even with her parents right there.

Jack finished his drink and then stood up again. "Just gonna get some air, Mr. Quinzel – be right back," he said, heading for the fire escape.

"I do wish he'd give up that habit," sighed Mrs. Quinzel, who knew Jack's euphemism by now. "It's not healthy for a man to smoke."

"Gladys, he's not your son, and even if he was, he's far too old to be told what to do," said Mr. Quinzel, grinning. "So is Harley, for that matter."

"Guess you're the only one I can still boss around, huh, George?" asked Mrs. Quinzel, kissing her husband as she cleared away the dishes.

"Maybe I can talk to him," said Harley, standing up. "He always used to do what I said, right?"

She headed for the door to the fire escape, her heart pounding. This was her last chance alone with Jack before she left for college, and she had resolved to tell him how she felt tonight.

She opened the door to see him leaning against the railing and smoking, and talking to someone on his cell phone. "…I'm just at a thing right now. I dunno, an hour, maybe two. Yeah, my place at ten. Ok. See you then, Sal."

"Who's Sal?" asked Harley, instantly jealous, as Jack hung up the phone.

"Oh, Sal is…is…uh…short for Sally. My…girlfriend," he said, turning around and smiling at her.

"Oh," said Harley, feeling her heart pounding in envy. "I don't think you've told me about her."

"Well, we've just started seeing each other," he replied.

"Is she pretty?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, puffing on his cigarette. "Not as pretty as you, though."

"I don't believe you," snapped Harley, sitting down on the steps.

"It's true," he said, sitting down next to her. "But you gotta not tell her I said that, ok?"

Harley nodded, still seething in jealousy. She imagined this Sally in her head, stunningly gorgeous, with a full, womanly figure, unlike her skinny, girlish build. She imagined her waiting for Jack when he got back to his apartment, she imagined him kissing her with his tongue and pressing her down on the sofa and whispering, "I love you and I want you so badly…"

"Speaking of which, why did you skip your prom?" he asked suddenly.

She looked up at him in surprise. "I told you, just like I told Mom and Dad. Nobody asked me to it."

He shook his head, puffing on his cigarette. "I don't believe you," he said.

"Why not?" she asked.

"Because I don't believe that every guy in your school suddenly went blind and crazy," he retorted.

She grinned. "Well, if you wanna know the truth, I _was_ asked," she muttered, stretching her legs out on the steps. "But I didn't wanna go with anyone in my school."

"Why not? Must have been some nice, handsome guys in there," he said.

She shrugged. "I guess. But none of them really interested me. None of them seemed special, and I wanna be with someone special. I mean, what made you choose Sally out of all the other nice, attractive girls out there?"

He smiled. "Well, she's the whole package, sweets," he said, looking at her. "Pretty, sweet, smart, funny. A guy would have to be crazy not to want her."

He puffed out a cloud of smoke. "And y'know, she gets me. Understands me, the way not a lotta people in my life have. We share the same sense of humor, and it's so natural talking to her. She knows about who I used to be and she still adores me. So I guess that makes her special."

"Yeah," murmured Harley, getting more jealous by the minute. "Y'know, Julia says I should have gone to prom, just so I wouldn't seem like a loser when I got to college. She said that since I ain't even kissed a boy, nobody at college is gonna wanna go out with me."

"She's full of crap," retorted Jack. "I know all the guys at your college won't be blind and crazy. They'll snap up a catch like you."

"Maybe," said Harley. "I dunno. To tell you the truth, I kinda feel like maybe I have missed out by not being more social. I mean, it's pretty pathetic, going off to college and never even kissed a guy."

She cleared her throat. "Maybe you could…uh…help me," she said, quietly.

"Yeah? How's that?" he asked, looking down at her.

"You could…uh…kiss me," she said. "And then I could know what it's like, and tell people I have, and…"

She trailed off as he just stared at her. "You want me to kiss you?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just so I'm not some social outcast at college," she added, hastily. "You'd just…be doing me a favor…"

They stared at each other, and Harley felt her heart speed up. "Please kiss me, Jack," she whispered.

He drew closer to her and she shut her eyes. She felt his breath teasing her lips, and her body was shaking in anticipation. And then he suddenly drew away.

"No, kid, I can't do that," he murmured. "Sally…Sally wouldn't like it, y'know."

"Oh…yeah…" stammered Harley, disappointed. "Yeah, sure. Don't worry about it, then."

"But you'll find a guy at college to do that, no problemo!" he laughed. "Trust me. And he better be a nice guy too, who treats you right, or I'll punch his lights out," he added, smiling at her.

She nodded quickly, and stood up. "Well, I got some…last minute packing to do. I'll see you around, Jack. I hope you and…Sally have a good night together," she said, holding back her tears until she got inside, and then immediately racing to her room to sob her heart out.

Jack remained outside, exhaling his cigarette slowly, and then dropped it to the ground as he buried his face in his hands. "Jesus Christ!" he gasped, shaking.

The truth was that Jack hadn't kissed Harley not because he feared the wrath of some fictitious girlfriend, but because he knew he never could have stopped himself from wanting to go further. He wouldn't have been able to control himself. If he had kissed her, his feelings for her would have all tumbled out, breathless, feverish words of passion that would undoubtedly have frightened her off. It was the last time he'd see her before she went off to college, and he wasn't gonna mess up her head like that. And he had to get ahold of himself – he had business to conduct tonight. Because the Sal on the phone was not, as he had told Harley, a beautiful woman, but rather his father's former boss, Salvatore Valestra, who had kept in contact with him over the years. That hadn't been Jack's choice, but he knew if he ever told Sal to leave him alone, Sal would punish his rudeness in ways that weren't very pleasant. You didn't annoy a powerful man like Sal Valestra, and Jack considered himself lucky that all Sal had wanted from him so far was to talk. If he ever wanted him to commit a crime, like his father, he would have to refuse him, and he knew Sal didn't take refusal well.

"Where's Harley?" asked Mr. Quinzel, as Jack re-entered the room.

"She said she had some packing to do," replied Jack. "I'm gonna go, if that's ok…"

"Why don't you stay and watch the game?" asked Mr. Quinzel, gesturing to the TV.

"No, I should go," said Jack. "Got some things to sort out…uh…tell Harley I said bye, and good luck for tomorrow. She'll do great."

"Are you ok, Jack?" asked Mrs. Quinzel, concerned. "You look flushed."

"Uh…feeling a little unwell," he said. "That's why I'm going…I'll see you both soon," he said, heading for the door and leaving without another word.

"Well, I hope it wasn't my cooking," said Mrs. Quinzel as the door shut.

"Probably those cigarettes," said Mr. Quinzel. "I do wish Harley could talk him out of that."

"If she can't, nobody can," retorted Mrs. Quinzel.

Harley entered the room at that moment, having stopped crying for the moment. "Where's Jack?" she asked, looking around.

"He left," replied Mrs. Quinzel. "Said he wasn't feeling well. You look a little unwell too, baby," she said, studying her face. "You been crying?"

"Yeah. Nervous about tomorrow, I guess," lied Harley. "A lotta big changes all at once, y'know."

"Well, Jack said to tell you good luck and that you'll do great," said Mr. Quinzel. "And he's absolutely right."

"Thanks, Dad," said Harley, forcing a smile as she came over to watch the game with him on the sofa. College would change things between her and Jack, she assured herself. She would find some nice guy there and forget all about him. That was the sensible thing to do. The crazy thing to do would be to get herself all worked up over some guy who had a girlfriend. And Harleen Quinzel was not a crazy person.


	8. Chapter 8

Jack drove around Gotham aimlessly to try to clear his head, and returned to his apartment to find Sal already there waiting for him. He didn't bother to ask how he got in – you didn't ask questions like that from a man like Sal Valestra. He merely shut the door and headed to the kitchen.

"Drink?" Jack asked, pouring a glass.

"I already helped myself," replied Sal, holding up a glass of whiskey. "Hope you don't mind, but you were late, y'know."

"Five minutes," replied Jack.

"I'm a busy man, Jack, I don't like being kept waiting," said Sal, softly. "Even for five minutes."

Jack said nothing, offering Sal a cigarette, which he took, and lighting it for him. Jack took one for himself, and then sat down opposite Sal. The men smoked in silence for a moment.

"So what kept you?" asked Sal at last.

"What does it matter? I'm here now," retorted Jack.

"I wanna know what you thought was more important than my company," replied Sal.

Jack looked at him. "I was with a dame," he muttered.

Sal grinned. "Yeah? Hot?"

"I wouldn't do an ugly dame," he retorted. "Anyway, she was a little reluctant to let me leave right away."

Sal chuckled. "Well, all is forgiven, then," he said. "I understand what it's like to be in the middle of things with some thirsty slut begging for more. Not that I'd call your mother a thirsty slut, God rest her soul."

He exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Nice place you got here," he commented.

"Thank you," said Jack. "I bought and paid for it, fair and square."

"How much did it set you back?" asked Sal.

Jack puffed on his cigarette. "It's rude to talk about money, Sal," he murmured.

"Of course. I should be watching my manners with Mr. High and Mighty Jack Napier, who pretends he's so much better than everyone else," said Sal, sarcastically.

Jack didn't know how to respond without annoying Sal further, so he didn't.

"So how's your job, Jack?" asked Sal at last.

"Fine," replied Jack. "Good."

"Yeah? You like slaving away every day for a pitiful salary?" asked Sal. "Or is that too close to talking about money for you?"

"I like getting paid a reasonable amount for the hard work I do, yes," retorted Jack.

"Yeah, but the whole 9-5 gig, that's for suckers," said Sal. "You know that, doncha, Jack? Your parents knew that. Your Pop did a couple hits, a couple times a month, and that's all the work he had to do for weeks."

"And of course we lived in the lap of luxury," said Jack, sarcastically.

"You would have, if your old man hadn't spent it all on booze," retorted Sal.

"You'll forgive me, Sal, if I don't think of my parents as people to look up to," retorted Jack. "I'd rather stay in line and work 9-5 than end up as a corpse riddled with bullet holes."

"Speaking of which, have you kept up your shooting?" asked Sal.

"I go to the range occasionally," said Jack, nodding. "Just for recreation, of course."

"Of course," agreed Sal. "Well, don't blame me if you never wanna have any real fun. But if you do…"

He leaned forward. "I'm planning a little job and I need a good marksman. It'll be a big haul, fifty grand each at least…"

"No thanks, Sal," interrupted Jack. "I'm not going to commit anymore crimes."

Sal smiled, leaning back. "Is that a fact? Little Jack Napier, staying on the straight and narrow, pretending to be some kinda angel…"

"I'm not pretending to be an angel," snapped Jack. "But I'm not going back to that lifestyle. And no amount of money you can offer will make me. I've got more important things than that in my life now, and I won't risk losing them."

"Really? What kinda things?" asked Sal, smiling as he inhaled from the cigarette. "This girl of yours? Don't tell me she's some naïve little goody goody who wouldn't like a strong, powerful man to buy her lots of diamonds and jewels…"

"It's none of your business who she is," retorted Jack. "My life is none of your business anymore, Sal. There's nothing criminal about it, so it really doesn't need to have anything more to do with yours."

Sal smiled, exhaling his cigarette. "Well, think it over," he said, standing up. "If you ever get tired of the 9-5 gig, and if you ever wanna earn a lotta money fast. It'd be a shame to waste talent like yours, Jack, if you're half the marksman your Pop was. And if memory serves, you were, even as a boy. And you know me – I just like people to use their talents and reach their potential. Kind and selfless and generous, that's me."

He patted Jack's cheek. "Bye bye, Jackie boy. See ya around."

Jack heard the front door shut and leaned back in his chair, exhaling a cloud of smoke. That could have gone worse. But he had the feeling that Sal wasn't going to give up that easily in his efforts to convince him to return to crime. Fortunately he didn't know about the Quinzels, or he dreaded to think how he might use them to force Jack to do what he wanted. At least Harley was safely away at college, whatever happened…

He downed his drink and then headed into his bedroom, reaching under his pillow and removing his handgun. He examined it carefully, making sure it was loaded, and then replaced it. He hadn't needed to use it to defend himself since the day he had threatened Mr. Quinzel, but he was terribly afraid that he would be needing it very soon.


	9. Chapter 9

"Harley, c'mon, there's a party at the frat house tonight and I wanna pick up a cute guy, but you gotta come with me! I need a wingwoman!" whined Julia. "And you've cooped yourself up in here for weeks! You need to get out there and enjoy the social aspects of college!"

Harley sighed, staring out the window of her dorm room. She supposed Julia was right, but she was anything but enthusiastic about going out. Distracting herself was probably for her own good, but it seemed almost impossible to do that when her every thought kept drifting back to Jack, and how much she missed him.

She had thought about just heading over to his apartment some weekend and confessing her feelings to him, but she was afraid of his girlfriend being there. And besides, he couldn't have any interest in a girl like her when he was already dating a real woman. She imagined herself telling Jack that she loved him, and his girlfriend laughing coldly at her. "You don't even know what that is, little girl!" she would laugh. "And you don't know how to please a man like Jack! He wouldn't even kiss you, because you're just a child! And he needs a real woman to make him happy."

She forced her thoughts away from the image of them devouring each other's mouths and turned to her roommate. "Yeah…ok," she said. "I'll go…get ready."

"You wanna tell me what's bothering you, Harley?" asked Julia as she headed for her closet.

"It's nothing," said Harley, rifling through her clothes to try to find something nice. "Just feeling a little…homesick, I guess."

"I dunno why," said Julia. "Being away from your parents is great! Nobody telling you what to do, or telling you what you shouldn't do. It's so nice to finally be free!"

"Well, my parents and I have always got along," replied Harley. "And I never really wanted to do anything they wouldn't have wanted me to do…except…"

She trailed off. "Yeah?" pressed Julia.

Harley sighed. "Y'know Jack?" she asked.

"Oh yeah, that guy your Dad picked up off the street!" laughed Julia. "Only comfortable around a buncha dirty cars, and couldn't hold an intelligent conversation if his life depended on it! What about him?"

"Uh…nothing," said Harley, hastily. "You're right, he's…uh…nothing special."

Julia stared at her. "Oh my God…you like him! That's sick, Harley! He's like almost as old as your Dad…"

"I know it's sick!" she snapped. "And wrong, but…I just can't stop thinking about him."

Julia shook her head. "Maybe it's some kinda weird attraction to lower class guys. Y'know, the way successful women sometimes like to have affairs with their gardeners or pool boys. People who are way below their league, because it makes them feel powerful. Maybe if you thought you could attract an older, working guy, it'd be like a huge powertrip for you."

"Maybe," said Harley, although she didn't think that was it. "Although I don't think of Jack as being below my league, or even from a different class. We grew up in the same circumstances…"

"Yeah, but you're a college girl now, and he never even went to school!" laughed Julia. "He's just a mechanic, and you're gonna be a doctor! He's way, way below your league. Believe me, Harley, college guys are so much better. We're gonna find you a nice, clean, charming guy tonight who's gonna make you forget all about that filthy old man, trust me."

Harley nodded, but she didn't believe her for an instant. None of the boys in her high school had appealed to her because of Jack, and she couldn't imagine her feelings would suddenly change in college.

But she had a forced smile on her face as she and Julia arrived at the frat house for the party. Harley didn't understand why Julia even needed a wingwoman, since she was straight on the first guy she saw, leaving Harley alone. She sighed, heading for the corner and trying not to be too noticeable, and wondering how long she had to stay before she could leave without it appearing rude.

"Hi," said a young man, approaching her.

"Hi," she said.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

"I don't…uh…drink," said Harley, slowly. "I'm only nineteen, so not old enough…y'know."

The boy laughed. "Wow, are you being serious? You're at a frat party and you don't drink?"

"My roommate dragged me here," retorted Harley. "Believe me, I was just about to sneak out."

"Are you always this goody goody?" asked the boy, smiling at her.

"Do you have a problem with people who follow the rules?" asked Harley.

"No, just not used to it, I guess!" laughed the boy. He held out his hand. "Bruce Wayne."

"Harleen Quinzel," she said, shaking his hand.

"That's a pretty name," he said. "So I gather from your age that you're still new to college. Liking it so far?"

"I guess," said Harley, shrugging. "It's different from high school, more interesting, but…I guess I'm still a little homesick."

"Where are you from?" asked Bruce.

"Here in Gotham," she said. "But the other side of the city. I moved outta my folks' place and…I really miss 'em a lot. Along with…some friends of mine…"

She trailed off, trying not to think about Jack. "What about you? Are you enjoying college?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't go to college," said Bruce, smiling. "My friend Harvey Dent just invited me along to this party – he's the one over there playing tongue hockey with your friend."

"Oh," said Harley, glancing over at where Julia was making out with an attractive guy. "So what do you do?"

"I've been traveling, actually," said Bruce. "Just got back home to Gotham after touring the world."

"That must have cost a bundle," said Harley.

"Oh, well, I'm rich," said Bruce, shrugging. "I inherited my parents' fortune after they were killed."

"Wait…Bruce Wayne as in Wayne Enterprises?" asked Harley, making the connection suddenly.

"Yep, that's me!" he said, smiling.

"Oh," repeated Harley, shocked. "I'm…sorry about your parents. That must be a rough thing to have to deal with."

"Yeah," agreed Bruce. "It was a long time ago now. And I've found ways of dealing with it."

"Like what?" asked Harley.

He shrugged. "Just…ways. Y'know. Harvey, when you get a chance, come over here and meet Harley!" called Bruce, turning around.

"You're right, Bruce, she _is_ the hotter friend," said Harvey, as he left Julia to go get some drinks. He held out his hand to Harley. "Harvey Dent."

"Harleen Quinzel," said Harley. "Nice to meet you. I guess I'll be seeing a lot of you around with Julia?"

"Maybe," he said, grinning. "But this is a party, and you can't blame a guy for having fun. Plus I need something to cheer me up after today – did I tell you, Bruce, that bastard Crane failed my paper! Just because I may have borrowed a few paragraphs from the internet…"

"Apparently Harvey has this nightmare psychology professor," explained Bruce, rolling his eyes. "Who doesn't understand that some guys have better things to do with their time in college than sit in a library all the time."

"I like Professor Crane," said Harley. "And he's given me A's on all my assignments so far."

"Yeah? What kinda favors did you do for him in exchange?" asked Harvey, grinning.

"I don't like the tone of that question," snapped Harley. "I just studied the material and worked hard…"

"I bet you did, sweetheart!" laughed Harvey. "C'mon, Bruce, is this good girl act for real?"

"Apparently so," said Bruce, smiling at Harley. "I like it, actually. Makes a nice change from the kinda girls you usually find at frat parties."

"No complaints here – I prefer 'em easy!" chuckled Harvey, taking his drinks and heading back to Julia. "See ya around, Miss Goody Two Shoes!"

"You'll have to forgive him," said Bruce, smiling apologetically. "He's normally a charmer, but he's been drinking, and he can be pretty unpleasant when his guard is lowered. It's like there's this whole other side to him…"

"Yeah…no problem," said Harley, shrugging. "Well, I'll just be going now, since Julia seems to be occupied…"

"Can I walk you back to your dorm?" offered Bruce. "I hear college campuses can be pretty unsafe, and I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

"Oh. Yeah, thanks," said Harley. Bruce offered her his arm and they left the party, heading back across campus.

"So are you…thinking of getting a job now?" asked Harley. "Now that you're done traveling and back in Gotham, I mean."

"Sort of," agreed Bruce. "I'm gonna take up a hobby, anyway."

"What kinda hobby?" asked Harley.

"Volunteer work," said Bruce. "In law enforcement."

"Oh. That sounds really interesting," said Harley.

"What about you? What do you wanna be when you graduate?" he asked.

"A psychiatrist," replied Harley. "Maybe get a job at Arkham Asylum or something."

"So you wanna stay in Gotham?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, shrugging. "Gotham's my home. And there are people in it who…I just couldn't bear to leave," she murmured, thinking of Jack again.

"Well, maybe I'll see you around again, then," said Bruce.

"Maybe," agreed Harley as they reached her dorm. "Well, thanks for walking me back, Bruce…"

She was cut off as he kissed her tenderly. Harley had never been kissed before, and truthfully this wasn't the man she wanted to be kissed by, but she decided to embrace the experience, just so Julia would stop nagging her, and just so she could say she'd kissed a boy. She didn't know what the big deal was anyway, she thought, as Bruce kissed her – it wasn't even that great. She was glad now that Jack hadn't given her her first kiss, because she would have hated to be disappointed by him.

He drew away slowly. "Give me a call sometime," he said, slipping a card into her hand. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Bruce," she said, watching him leave. Then she sighed, entering her room. "Well, I don't know why Julia's so obsessed with kissing boys," she muttered. "It's nice, but it ain't _that_ nice."

She climbed back onto her bed, reaching under her pillow and slipping out the faded and creased picture of Jack that she kept there. "Maybe you're better at it than Bruce, huh, puddin'?" she whispered, using her private pet name for him. "But I guess I'll never know." She kissed the photo and replaced it under her pillow. "Goodnight, Jack," she whispered. "I love you."


	10. Chapter 10

"You and Bruce Wayne?! No way!" shrieked Julia the next day. "Tell me all about it!"

"There's nothing to tell," sighed Harley, who had already regretted telling her anything. "He walked me back, and then he kissed me, and then he gave me his card and told me to call him sometime."

"And you're gonna, right?" demanded Julia.

"I dunno," said Harley, shrugging. "He ain't really my type."

"Why? Cause he's rich and gorgeous rather than old and dirty?" demanded Julia.

"Jack's not old or dirty…" began Harley.

"C'mon, Harley, are you crazy?" interrupted Julia. "Bruce Wayne is the richest, most handsome, most eligible bachelor in Gotham! If you could hook him, you'd be set for life! He'd take you on yachts and cruises all over the world, and to parties with movie stars and celebrities! He'd buy you expensive jewelry and shoes and dresses! It's every girl's dream!"

"It's never been my dream, Julia," replied Harley. "I've always been content with my modest upbringing, and I've never wanted more than that. Or different types of people from the ones I grew up with…"

"You need to dream a little bigger, Harley!" laughed Julia. "God, if Bruce Wayne had kissed me, I'd have invited him to bed then and there! You are so lucky! Your first kiss was from a billionaire! And if you don't call him, I'll do it for you!"

Harley sighed. "Ok, Julia, I'll call him. But the kiss really wasn't that great…"

Her phone rang at the moment, and Julia squealed. "Maybe that's Bruce now!" she cried.

"I didn't give him my number," she retorted. "It's my parents. Hello?" she said, answering it.

"Harley, baby, how are you doing?" asked her mother.

"I'm good, Mom," said Harley, heading into her room.

"You having fun?" she asked.

"Yeah," agreed Harley. "Working hard too, though. I got an A+ on my psychology paper, and Professor Crane wants me to send it off to a psychiatric journal. He says it's groundbreaking for a freshman."

"That's great news, baby!" said Mrs. Quinzel. "But not surprising – you were always a super student."

"Thanks, Mom," said Harley, smiling. "How's everyone at home?"

"Same as always," replied Mrs. Quinzel. "Your father's at work. He's made a huge sale this week that he's pretty happy about – he says it's been his most profitable month ever."

"That's amazing!" said Harley. "And…how's Jack?" she asked, hoping her tone sounded casual.

"He really misses you," said Mrs. Quinzel. "Your father says it's like someone took his smile away. He works harder than ever, but he just doesn't look happy."

"Well, tell him…I miss him too," stammered Harley. "But I'm sure it's not me he's depressed about."

"Well, he's been acting kinda funny ever since you left," said Mrs. Quinzel. "Your father says he gets really edgy when he comes and goes from work. Like he's afraid of being watched or something. But he says everything's fine, so there's not much we can do. Your father says he's also spending a lot more time at the shooting range, but maybe a hobby helps him get his mind off whatever's bothering him."

"Yeah," agreed Harley. "Maybe."

"Anyway, baby, the reason I called is that your father says since he's had such a profitable month, and since your birthday is coming up in a few weeks, he wants to do something really special for your big 20th. So he's hired out this nice, function room downtown and a band for a big party! You can invite all your friends from college, and any of the ones from high school that are still around."

"And Jack should come too," said Harley, hastily.

"Sure, if you want," said Mrs. Quinzel. "I'm sure he'd be happy to."

"Thanks, Mom, that'll be great!" exclaimed Harley. "I'll get a new dress, and my hair and nails and makeup done…"

"Is this my daughter?" laughed Mrs. Quinzel. "When did you ever care about dolling yourself up?"

"Well…I'm gonna be twenty," said Harley, shrugging. "I can play grown up for a night, can't I?"

"I guess," sighed Mrs. Quinzel. "Hard for me to think about my baby girl all grown up, though."

"Well, I am, Mom," said Harley. And she was going to show Jack that she was too, she thought. If she could impress him at the party as a grownup, maybe he would change his mind about this girlfriend of his. Maybe he would see her finally as a woman, a grown woman, who loved him madly…

"You should invite Bruce," said Julia after Harley had hung up and told Julia about the party.

"Oh. I dunno, Julia – it would be awkward if he wanted to come as my date or something," said Harley.

"Well, don't invite him as a date, silly," said Julia, rolling her eyes. "That's how you keep him keen! Devote your attention to all the guys there equally, so he'll be desperate to get you all to himself! That's how you get a guy to commit – make him jealous!"

Harley hesitated. "Is that really how you get a guy to commit?" she asked quietly, thinking of Jack.

"Trust me," said Julia, nodding. "It works every time."

Harley nodded slowly. "Ok, then," she said, picking up her phone. "I'll give Bruce a call."


	11. Chapter 11

Jack stood in front of the target, holding his gun at eye level and firing bullet after bullet into the face of the silhouette. His outward expression was calm and relaxed, but inwardly every nerve and muscle was alive, melded with the weapon, feeling every shot as if the gun was an extension of his hand.

Harley entered the room, about to race over and surprise him, but found herself standing in the doorway, just staring at the fluid shots, at the natural way he used a weapon. There was something primal and sexy about it, watching a man shoot, watching him release powerful shots from his gun over and over again…Harley felt her heart speed up and her body go all tingly, and she knew she had to end this now before another fantasy could start…

"You're…really good," she stammered.

Jack turned, beaming. "Harley!" he cried, racing over to hug her. "What a pleasant surprise! When did you get back, kiddo?"

"I just drove over this morning – I have some appointments before the big party tonight," said Harley, smiling at him. "But I couldn't wait to see you."

He smiled. "You are a sight for sore eyes, kiddo," he said, hugging her again. "Just seeing you…God, it feels like my world suddenly makes sense again! I've missed you so much!"

Harley beamed at him. "Yeah? Cause I've really missed you too, Jack."

"C'mon, sit down for a second and tell me all about college," he said, gesturing to a table. "You liking it?"

"Yeah, I guess," said Harley. "The work is interesting. And I've met some nice people."

"And did you finally get that kiss from a boy?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Yeah, I did, actually," she said, hoping she sounded casual. "He'll be at the party tonight. Bruce Wayne."

"Bruce Wayne?" repeated Jack. "Wayne Enterprises Bruce Wayne?"

"Yeah," said Harley, nodding.

"Oh," he said, slightly disappointed. "I think you can do better than that, kid."

"He's a billionaire," replied Harley.

"Yeah, spoiled little rich brat," said Jack, nodding. "I remember him, even if maybe you were too young to. Like father, like son."

"I don't understand – have I met Bruce before?" asked Harley, puzzled.

"No, not exactly…never mind," said Jack, hastily. "He's probably grown out of it, huh? Nice guy now, I bet."

"Yeah," agreed Harley. "Anyway, he kissed me, and now he's coming to my party," she said, pointedly.

Jack didn't seem to respond in the way she wanted him to – to her annoyance, he didn't appear jealous. "Well, I'll meet him there and see for myself how he's changed," he said, nodding. "And your studying's going good?"

"Uh huh," she said. "It was super sweet of Bruce – it was dark out, so he walked me home from a party, and that's where he kissed me."

"That doesn't sound super sweet to me – that sounds like what any decent guy would do so a gal don't have to walk alone in the dark," retorted Jack. "And he'd do it without expecting a kiss for it."

Was that jealousy? Harley couldn't tell – she would have to see if she could provoke a bigger reaction at the party.

"Is your girlfriend coming to the party tonight?" she asked, casually.

"Girlfriend?" he repeated. "I don't have a girlfriend."

"Oh," said Harley, shocked. "I thought…you and Sally were…"

"Oh, Sally!" exclaimed Jack. "Oh…yeah…Sally…well, what I meant is that I don't have _a _girlfriend, as in just one girlfriend. I'm seeing lots of women, y'know."

"Yeah?" asked Harley, hopefully. That meant he wasn't serious about any of them. "Are any of them coming to the party tonight?"

"What, and have them try to outshine you at your special occasion?" chuckled Jack. "No, siree, kiddo. Tonight is all about you. Don't want another dame trying to compete for my attention tonight – I'm all yours."

Harley gazed at him, dying to confess her love right there. But then she remembered she was supposed to be making him jealous, and she said, "Yeah, well, I have a lotta guests coming, so my attention's kinda gonna be all over. Anyway, it was good seeing you, and I'll see you tonight, huh?" she said, standing up.

"7 PM, the Diamond Lounge," said Jack, nodding. "I'll be there."

He stood up, taking her in his arms and kissing her cheek. "And happy birthday, kiddo," he murmured. "I can't believe you're twenty. Makes me feel really old," he said, smiling at her.

"You're not old, Jack," she whispered. "You're…"

She trailed off, her heart hammering as the words she was dying to say rose to her lips "gorgeous," "wonderful," "perfect"…

"You're…great," she finished lamely. "Just…great. I'll see you tonight," she said, heading for the door.

"I'm glad you're back, Harley," he said, smiling at her and then returning his attention to the target.

"So am I," she whispered, strengthening her resolve. She was gonna knock his socks off tonight.


	12. Chapter 12

"You look gorgeous!" shrieked Julia as she pounced on Harley, hugging her as she emerged from dressing in her room.

"I'd better – I can barely breathe!" gasped Harley. "My waist is pinched, my boobs are shoved up and clamped in place, and I can already feel my ass going numb – I feel like I've just forced my whole body into a vise!"

"It'll be worth it when you see the look on Bruce's face, trust me," said Julia. "That dress really brings out your figure, Harley."

"And it doesn't look too slutty?" she asked, looking at her reflection in the mirror. "I wanna look grown up, but not slutty. I'm a bit worried about this slit up the leg…"

"It looks sexy, not slutty," retorted Julia. "Same with the makeup. You look like a beautiful young woman going out for a night on the town, and you are going to stun everyone at this party. But especially Bruce. He'll wanna do a little more than kiss you tonight, I guarantee it," she said, grinning. "And wouldn't that be a great way to celebrate your 20th birthday?"

"What, fooling around with Bruce Wayne?" asked Harley. "I can think of better ways to celebrate."

Boy, could she ever, said her mind, as it began to wander. She imagined Jack planting kisses down her revealing neckline, his hands all over her body - tight, clinging, thin fabric all that separated his eager flesh from hers, and her own flesh was straining through it, needing to meet his…

"Oh God, I've gotta stop," she whispered, feeling herself blushing. "Don't wanna faint, and that's a real danger in this dress…"

"I guess you could leave the zipper down a little," said Julia. "If you think it'll help."

"No, I'll just deal with it," said Harley. "If you're sure it's worth it."

"Trust me, you are gonna turn heads tonight," said Julia, smiling at her. "Though I know there's only one head you wanna turn, right?"

"Yeah," whispered Harley, thinking of Jack. "That's right."

Her parents had left early to finish setting up the party, but they had ordered a limousine to pick Harley up from the apartment at six-thirty. Julia rode along with her, chattering all the way, about how cool it was to be in a limo, about how fancy everyone must think they were, about how this was going to be the most amazing party, while Harley just stared out the window, feeling butterflies of nervousness and excitement in the pit of her stomach. She hoped Jack would be pleased…

And then the door to the limo opened, and the driver held out his hand. "Madam?" he said, helping Harley out.

"This is so cool – I feel like we're Cinderella at the ball!" whispered Julia, excitedly, as the doors to the Diamond Lounge opened.

Jack had been holding a drink and chatting with the Quinzels when he saw the doors open, and looked up at Harley. His jaw, heart, and glass dropped, one of them shattering on the marble floor, and one of them leaping back up into his mouth as he gasped, "Jesus Christ!"

And then the band began to play as Harley walked down the stairs to the applause and cheers of her guests. "Harley, baby, you look stunning!" said Mr. Quinzel, embracing his daughter.

"You're all grown up now, sweetheart," whispered Mrs. Quinzel. "Oh, George, I'm gonna cry!" she sobbed, burying her face in her husband's chest.

Harley stopped in front of Jack, who just stared at her. She stared back, smiling nervously, feeling her heart pounding at his gaze, and also at how handsome he looked in a nice suit and bowtie, his dark hair slicked back…

"You look beautiful," they both said at the same time, and then laughed.

"No, but…seriously, just…look at you," stammered Jack, who literally couldn't pull his eyes away from her. "Hard to believe that this is the little girl who used to have mud fights with me."

Harley smiled, taking his hand. "I ain't a little girl anymore, Jack," she whispered, gazing at him. "I'm a woman now."

"You…sure are," he stammered. Uncontrollable madness seemed to have seized him – he couldn't bear the thought of being around this gorgeous creature any longer without telling her he was in love with her. He opened his mouth and began, "Harley, could I have a word with you in private…"

"Harley, won't you introduce me?" asked Bruce Wayne suddenly, coming over and putting his arm around Harley's waist. He smiled at Jack in a way that was anything but friendly, and that seemed to break the spell over Jack's mind.

"Oh…sure, Bruce," said Harley. "Uh…Bruce, this is Jack Napier, my…friend. Jack, this is Bruce Wayne, of Wayne Enterprises."

"Jack Napier?" repeated Bruce. "Are you related to the Valestra hitman Joseph Napier?"

"I was," replied Jack, nodding. "He was my father."

"Oh. I see," said Bruce, lightly. "And how does a hitman's son know a girl like Harley? There must be a fascinating story to go with that."

"Jack…broke into our home when I was a kid," murmured Harley. "But he…didn't mean any harm, and Dad…let him stay with us and gave him a job…"

"Your father is a braver man than me, taking criminals and sons of criminals into his home," laughed Bruce. "Especially with a young child. But good for him for taking pity and being charitable toward an unfortunate case. It's that kind of philanthropy that's made Wayne Enterprises the recipient of the Humanitarian Business of the Year Award eight years running."

"Good for you," said Jack, smiling thinly.

"And what is it that you do, Mr. Napier?" asked Bruce. "Or would it not be appropriate to discuss in polite company?"

"I…work with Harley's father, in the used car industry," retorted Jack.

"Oh, still?" asked Bruce, raising his eyebrows. "I would have thought that you'd have retired from a pity job like that years ago to stand on your own two feet. How can a man respect himself if he's just given handouts from strangers, after all?"

"This from the billionaire inheritance case," snapped Jack.

"I run Wayne Enterprises now," retorted Bruce. "A multi-billion dollar conglomerate. I would say that's standing on my own two feet, and carrying on the Wayne family tradition of public service."

"Oh, you do carry on the Wayne family tradition," agreed Jack, grabbing a glass of champagne. "You're just like your father."

"Well, I imagine you're just like yours," retorted Bruce. "However much you pretend not to be. But then maybe not – a boy can't be influenced by a man who was probably in prison from the day he was born, a boy who was probably the product of a conjugal prison visit."

"Bruce, stop it," said Harley, frowning. "Jack can't help his past, but he's a great guy now."

"Yes, I'm sure he is," agreed Bruce. "If you need a car repaired, I'm sure he's just the man to ask. Do you have any other hobbies, Jack?"

"Shooting," retorted Jack, glaring at him.

Bruce laughed. "Well, there's an intellectual pursuit! Personally I find guns incredibly vulgar – you wouldn't catch me dead using one. But apart from car repair and shooting, do you have anything else to add to a conversation?"

Jack didn't respond, glaring at Bruce. "You see? Just as I thought," said Bruce, nodding. "Frankly, I don't even know why you're here – you can't possibly add anything to Harley's party or her life. Nobody wants you here, so why don't you just leave?"

"No, that's not true, Jack…" began Harley, but he had already put down his glass, turning and heading for the door without another word.

Harley rounded on Bruce angrily. "What the hell was that, Bruce?!" she demanded.

"What?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "You can't honestly expect me to be on my best behavior for a criminal. I don't waste manners and politeness on scum like that. He didn't have any business being here."

"He's my friend!" snapped Harley. "I invited him, because I wanted him to be here! I like him!"

Bruce snorted. "Harley, I understand it must be flattering to you, but frankly it's cruel to torment the less fortunate like that."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Didn't you see the way he was looking at you?" asked Bruce. "If I hadn't got here when I did, the brute was going to stammer out some clumsy confession of love for you. I was simply sparing you from his awkward advances. You can thank me in any way you see fit in private later," he said, smiling at her.

Harley stared at him. "What?" she gasped.

"Come on, Harley, it's obvious!" laughed Bruce. "You must know he's in love with you! I almost feel sorry for him, in a way – a pathetic clown like that thinking he could ever be worthy of a girl like you. He must be crazy!" he laughed.

Harley's brain slowly processed the information, and then she headed straight for the door with a muttered, "Excuse me."

"Harley? Where are you going? Harley? You can't walk out on your own party! Harley!" called Bruce after her, but she ignored him, the pounding of her heart drowning out his calls, and replacing them with the same words repeated over and over in her head: _He's in love with you, he's in love with you, he's in love with you…_


	13. Chapter 13

Harley found him where she expected to find him – in the garage, tinkering with the cars. Only he clearly didn't want anyone to find him there – the whole place was dark, the only light being the streetlamps shining through the window where he sat, half-illuminating his face.

"Uh…hey," she said, slowly.

He looked up, startled. "Hey," he said, putting down the wrench. "What…are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to apologize," she said, hastily. "For what Bruce said…he shouldn't have said anything like that."

Jack shrugged. "He's right. I ain't bright or educated like you and him. I never woulda got into college. What can I possibly add to your conversation, or your party? I don't belong there. I belong here. But you'd better get back, or your guests will worry," he said, returning his attention to the car.

"No, I don't…wanna see them right now," murmured Harley, leaning against the worktop. "I don't wanna see anyone but you."

He grinned. "I'm flattered, kid. But I'm sure you'd rather talk to people who are more interesting than me."

"I don't think there's anyone more interesting than you," she said, quietly. "And…I don't wanna talk."

He looked up at her, surprised. "Look, I know it's…crazy," she stammered. "But I've…been thinking about you a lot. In ways I ain't never thought about Bruce or…or any of the other intellectual guys I've met at college. That kinda pretentiousness just doesn't appeal to me in a man. I'd rather they were just honest and sincere."

She stood up again. "But that's the funny thing about education – sometimes too much of it can spoil you. Sometimes it can change you so that you don't really know what you want, or you can't see it anymore, or…you forget how you used to be. But…I ain't never forgot how I used to be. Hanging out with you…I can't forget how you always made me feel. And that's the only feeling I want anymore. I've…educated myself to discover that what I want…and what I need…has always been right in front of me."

He stood up to face her slowly. "What…are you saying?" he stammered, in a voice that shook.

She smiled. "I told you. I don't wanna talk."

And she kissed him. He let out a moan, but it wasn't of protest, as his arms came about her and he crushed her little body into his, clutching her so tightly he almost suffocated her. But she didn't mind – her own mouth was desperately mauling his, wanting to devour him whole. His kiss was completely unlike Bruce's – it was wild and animalistic and full of desperate need for her. She felt it stir her body as a million delightful, previously unknown feelings began to well up from inside her.

"Oh God – so that's what a kiss is supposed to feel like!" she gasped, as they drew apart to draw breath. And then they were in each other's arms again, their mouths locked together.

She felt his eager hands exploring her body, and she gave him noises of encouragement as he lifted her off her feet, slamming her down on the work table. "Mmm…yes, Jack…please!" she gasped.

"If you knew…how long…and how much…I've wanted you!" he whispered in between kisses as his hands undid the back of her dress. "But I never thought…you could ever feel that way…about a guy like me. Classy dame like you…"

"I've always wanted you," she whispered, smiling up at him.

He gave a sob of relief, and then his hands tore open the back of her dress. She felt the fabric rip and breathed a deep sigh, drawing in a complete breath for the first time that night.

"Oh God, thank you!" she whispered. "I thought I was going to suffocate packed into that!"

He chuckled. "Did you wear that hoping it would rip?"

"I wore it for you," she whispered. "I wanted to be beautiful for you. And I didn't dare hope you'd rip it off, although I wanted that more than anything else. I wanted you more than anything else," she whispered, gazing up at him.

"Oh God, Harley!" he gasped, kissing her madly all over her face. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Why didn't you tell _me_ sooner?" she asked.

"Because I thought you'd think it was wrong," he whispered. "That I was some dirty old man lusting after a pretty young girl…"

"Mmm, if this is wrong, I don't ever wanna be right," she whispered, grinning at him. "And maybe you are a dirty old man, but I still love you."

"Oh, Harley!" he gasped. "I love you too!"

Harley had fantasized about it a thousand times, but she never could have imagined it being as good as it was. But then she never imagined it happening on the work table in her father's garage. Or again in the backseat of one of the cars. Or again in Jack's bedroom, after they had driven back to his apartment to get cleaned up.

She lay in his arms as he stroked her hair back with one hand, the other holding a cigarette. "Can I try?" she asked, reaching for it.

"No," he snapped, pulling it away from her. "Your parents would kill me for teaching you how to smoke."

"Mmm, it's not like it's the only bad habit you've taught me tonight," she said, grinning at him.

He didn't grin back. "What are we gonna tell your folks?" he asked quietly, taking a drag of his cigarette.

She shrugged. "Tell 'em I felt ill, and had to leave the party, and stayed over at yours. They won't mind."

"I mean…about us," he said. "Sleeping together. I think they'll mind that."

"Why?" asked Harley. "We're consenting adults. And they love both of us…you'd think they'd be happy we're together."

"Harley, they're gonna think I took advantage of you," he muttered. "As a much older man…I have a responsibility not to do things like this with a young girl who trusts me."

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions, Jack," she retorted. "You didn't seduce me. I had to kiss you, in the end, or you never would have done anything," she added, grinning. "I instigated this."

"You sure did," he said, kissing her. "You wore that dress. I was gonna say something the moment you appeared at the party, but then your friend Bruce interrupted."

"He's not my friend," she said. "I'm not interested in him. And his kiss was crap compared to yours," she murmured, kissing him.

"Well, I would have done it the night you asked me, but I wouldn't have been able to stop," he murmured.

"Is that why you said no?" she demanded, sitting up. "And not because Sally wouldn't like it?"

He inhaled from his cigarette. "There is no Sally," he murmured. "I haven't had a girlfriend in a long time. Since I…started noticing you. I didn't think it would be fair to be with a girl when my mind wanted to be with someone else."

"Then who was Sal on the phone?" asked Harley, puzzled.

He exhaled slowly, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray. "Salvatore Valestra was…an associate of my father's."

"Why was he calling you?" asked Harley.

"He wants me for a job," replied Jack. "An illegal job. I'm not gonna do it. But Sal doesn't take no for an answer, so I've been jittery ever since I refused him. I know he ain't gonna give up that easily."

"But he can't force you to commit a crime," said Harley.

"He can try," murmured Jack, stroking her cheek. "And I'm terrified that he will."

"How?" asked Harley.

He didn't respond, just stared at her, cupping her face. "God, you are so beautiful," he whispered. "So beautiful. What did I ever do to deserve a gal like you?"

He kissed her deeply, pressing her down on the bed, and Harley forgot all thoughts of Salvatore Valestra. He could wait. Time had stopped here in Jack's arms, and for that stopped moment, life was perfect.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning, the ringing of a phone startled them both from sleep. "Mmm, that's mine," said Jack, nuzzling Harley's neck as he reached over for it and glanced sleepily at the number.

"It's your parents," he said, suddenly sitting up, wide awake. "Hello?"

"Jack, have you seen Harley?" asked Mrs. Quinzel, in a slightly hysterical voice. "She left her party suddenly last night and hasn't been seen since, and her phone's turned off…"

"She's ok, Mrs. Quinzel," he interrupted, stroking Harley's hair. "She's here with me."

"With you?" repeated Mrs. Quinzel. "What's she doing with you?"

"Sleeping," replied Jack, grinning at her dozing form and planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "She said she wasn't feeling well last night, and since I was leaving early, she thought she'd tag along and come home with me. I gave her some aspirin and sent her to bed, and she's been out like a light ever since."

"Oh. Well, that's a relief!" sighed Mrs. Quinzel. "Tell her to call us when she wakes up, will you? And thank you, Jack. You always take such good care of her."

"I try, Mrs. Quinzel," he murmured, stroking Harley's hair back. "I do try."

He hung up the phone and kissed her gently on the lips. "Jack, what do you think you're doing?" she asked, opening her eyes and staring at him.

"Kissing you," he said, repeating the action.

"Well, stop it," she said, drawing away from him. "Why do you think that would be appropriate, for a guy like you to kiss a girl like me on the lips like that? Are you some kinda dirty old man?"

He stared at her. "Harley, I…"

But she suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. "I can't keep up the act!" she laughed. "I was gonna try to make you feel really guilty about what we did last night to see if you'd buy it, because it's funny to play on your insecurities about our age difference! But you just look so hurt, I can see I've gone too far already. Can't you take a joke, puddin'?" she asked, kissing him.

"There's a difference between a joke and just being cruel," retorted Jack. "You little minx. And what's with puddin'?"

"It's a name I'd call you when I thought about you sometimes," she said, shrugging. "I kept this picture of you under my pillow, and I'd talk to you when I was lonely at college, or when I missed you. Which was all the time," she added, kissing him again.

"Mmm, I'm gonna miss you when you go back to college," he replied, lying down to cuddle her in his arms again. "Not that I didn't already miss you like crazy before."

"Well…I could always move outta my dorm with Julia," she murmured. "And live here with you. So I'd come home to you every day. It's what I wanted to do from the beginning, but you said no."

"I said no because I knew I wouldn't be able to live with you platonically," he retorted. "Seeing you every day, and thinking about you sleeping all alone in the next room…I like to think of myself as a good man, but even a good man has some temptations he just can't resist."

"Mmm, don't think I wouldn't have tempted you too," she murmured, grinning at him. "If you had said yes, I would have tried all kinds of subtle tricks to seduce you, leaving the bathroom door open when I showered, forgetting a towel when I went back to my room, sleeping naked, with my bedroom door open invitingly…"

"You wanna tempt me now, don't you?" he chuckled, kissing her.

"Is it working?" she asked, grinning.

In response, he climbed on top of her, enveloping her mouth.

"You should call your parents," he said, lying in each other's arms after they were done.

"And tell them what?" she asked. "That I love you, and I'm moving in with you, and staying with you forever?"

He was silent. "Harley, I really don't think it's a good idea to tell them about us…as a couple," he murmured. "They won't like it. And I can't bear to break your father's heart after all he's done for me…"

"They have to know sometime," she said. "I wanna be with you, Jack. And I don't wanna have to hide our love from my parents. I want us all to be one big, happy family."

"That's the problem, Harley," he murmured. "They see me as family. And if they found out that two family members were doing this…well, that would be objectively wrong."

"But we're not family," she said. "Not blood-related anyway, and that's what matters. We love each other like family, but surely that's a good thing. Surely that's one of the deepest bonds of love that ever existed."

"Kiddo, it's not me you have to convince," he said. "It's your parents."

"And I can," she said. "I'm sure of it. But we should tell them together," she said, taking his hand. "Maybe at dinner tomorrow. Just present it to them as the most natural thing in the world, and I'm sure they'll see it that way. It certainly feels like the most natural thing in the world to me," she whispered, kissing him.

"Me too, kiddo," he said. "I just wish I had your confidence about your folks' reaction."

"Well, how do you think they'll react?" she asked.

He was silent. "I think your father will regret taking me in and giving me a chance in life. I think they'll both finally see me as everyone else does – a bad man. Who betrayed their trust, who was only ever interested in his own selfish gratification, who just wanted to get his hands on their pretty daughter…"

"But that's not true, Jack," she interrupted.

"No, it's not," he agreed. "But they'll see it that way. People have a habit of always seeing the worst in me, kid. Your father didn't, but…I'm just afraid this will change that. And I don't want to ruin my relationship with the only family I've ever known. I don't know what I'd do without them. I owe your father everything. My life, my job, even you," he said, kissing her. "I would do anything rather than hurt him."

"We have to tell them, Jack," she murmured. "And the sooner the better. I don't wanna have to sneak around the people I love. The only other option is to not see each other anymore, and that would kill me. Whatever happens, telling them is the lesser of two evils."

He nodded. "You're right, sweets," he said, kissing her. "I just hope they'll understand."


	15. Chapter 15

"Harley, this is a pleasant surprise!" said Mr. Quinzel, smiling at his daughter as she entered the garage the next day. "I thought we were meeting you at home for dinner!"

"I just wanted to stop by and see you, Dad," said Harley, kissing his cheek.

"Well, c'mon into the back," he said. "We've just got some work to finish up. Look, Jack, Harley's here!"

Jack looked up from the car he had been working on and Harley smiled at him. She could tell the same thoughts were running through his head as hers, memories of what they had done a couple nights ago in here, on that workbench and in that car…

"Harley, good to see you," said Jack, forcing his mind away from thoughts like that and coming over to hug her. His lips brushed her cheek and she smiled up at him, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I was gonna say we should finish up on that car, but since Harley's here, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't call it a day," said Mr. Quinzel. "We can do the rest of the repairs tomorrow, don't you think, Jack?"

"Whatever you think, sir," replied Jack. "I'll get my coat."

Harley stared after him, beaming. She couldn't wait until she could kiss Jack publicly, or hold his hand, and let the world know she was with the most gorgeous man on earth. And that would only have to be until tonight, when they were going to tell her parents, and then she and Jack would have their family's blessing.

She kept glancing at him all throughout dinner as he held her hand discreetly under the table. He kept clenching and unclenching his grip in nervousness, and Harley decided after dessert was the time to put him out of his misery. She stood up, placing their joined hands on the table.

"I have an announcement to make," she said. "Things have changed a lot for me recently – I've gone to college, I've turned twenty, and the best thing of all that's happened is that someone I've loved for a long time now has confessed his mutual love for me," she said, smiling at Jack. "I'm sure you'll both be as happy as I am when I tell you that Jack and I are together now, and we couldn't be happier."

Her parents stared at her as if they hadn't heard, or understood. "What do you mean…together?" stammered Mr. Quinzel at last.

"I mean together," repeated Harley, confused. "Um…we're lovers."

The continued shocked, stunned, and disbelieving reaction was not what Harley had been hoping for. "You…you did this…to my daughter?" gasped Mr. Quinzel at last, staring at Jack.

"No, Dad, he didn't do anything to me," interrupted Harley before he could respond. "It was a mutual decision…"

"So you both decided to lose your minds?!" roared Mr. Quinzel, the fury suddenly kicking in. "It's sick and wrong, Harley! I can maybe forgive your naivety, but you…" he said, rounding furiously on Jack. "You should know better! How long have you been planning this, you disgusting pervert?! Since she was a child?! God, I trusted you like a son, I left you alone with her for years, and all you wanted was…"

"No, Mr. Quinzel, that's not true!" cried Jack. "It's not something I planned to happen – I didn't even think about her like that until…"

"Until what?!" roared Mr. Quinzel. "Until she looked enough like a woman that you would think it's ok, to lust after a child like that?! Did you touch her?! So help me, if you did…"

"No, Mr. Quinzel, I swear!" interrupted Jack. "Nothing like that ever happened between us! Not until…"

"Until when?!" demanded Mr. Quinzel.

"Until the night of my party," said Harley. "When we slept together."

Mrs. Quinzel suddenly screamed, the realization hitting her. "Oh my God, you took her home with you and you seduced her…"

"He didn't!" cried Harley. "If anything, I seduced him! And it's not wrong! I know Jack loves me, and you know it too! Our feelings are deep and lasting, and our relationship is a lot better than if I just started seeing some stranger – I know Jack's a good man. If he ever got me pregnant, you know he'd take care of me and the baby…"

"Oh my God!" screamed Mrs. Quinzel. "Oh my God, is that what he's done?! Are you pregnant?! It's not enough that he seduces you, but he impregnates you and makes you drop outta college to raise his child…"

"I'm not pregnant!" shrieked Harley. "And I'm not dropping outta college! I'm just moving outta my dorm and in with Jack, so we can start our new life together. But I'm going to finish school and get my degree and be a doctor, and then we'll see about the family…"

"Oh God, I can't think about it!" gasped Mrs. Quinzel, bursting into tears. "We trusted him with our baby girl and all this time he…he…"

"This is how you repay me, after all I've done for you?" gasped Mr. Quinzel, tears in his own eyes. "After I took you into my home and gave you a job…you seduce my baby girl?"

"She's not a baby girl anymore!" shouted Jack. "And we haven't done anything wrong! We just love each other!"

Mr. Quinzel stood up slowly. "Get out of my house," he whispered, quietly. "Get out and never come back. Gladys always warned me that my kindness would get me into trouble someday, and she was right. I should have shot you when you broke in, and saved Harley from being groomed by a monster. How dare you, you sick bastard? How dare you do that to a child?!"

"Daddy, I ain't a child!" sobbed Harley. "Please don't be like this! Jack's right – we just love each other! There's nothing wrong with that!"

"I'm sure you think you do, Harley," retorted Mr. Quinzel. "I'm sure he's brainwashed and manipulated you into thinking that. Abusers can be very charming and persuasive, so I hear. And now I know from experience."

Jack nodded slowly, releasing Harley's hand and heading for the door. "I'm sorry to have hurt you," he murmured. "Please believe I never wanted to do that. Goodbye."

Mrs. Quinzel hadn't stopped sobbing, and Mr. Quinzel seized his daughter, hugging her tightly. "Baby, oh baby, I'm so sorry for what I allowed him to do to you…"

"I'm sorry too, Dad," whispered Harley. She broke away from him and headed for the door after Jack. "Goodbye."

"Harley, no! Harley, come back! Harley!" screamed her mother, but she shut the door to the apartment and followed Jack out into the night.

…

"You ok?" asked Harley, kissing Jack's forehead as they lay in bed together.

"Fine," he murmured. "I'm always fine as long as you're with me," he said, kissing her.

"But you're depressed about my parents," said Harley.

"Aren't you?" he asked, looking up at her.

She shrugged. "They'll come around. Eventually. When they realize that our love is true, that we both ain't fooling around. They're angry and upset, sure, but they're not gonna stay like that forever. And they're not gonna wanna lose their daughter over some stupid misunderstanding."

"I wish I had your confidence, kiddo," he sighed. "Even if they manage to accept you back, they'll never accept me."

He lay back on the pillows. "And anyway, can't an unemployed guy be depressed?"

"You'll find another job," said Harley. "You got a lotta good, solid, practical skills, Jack."

"Yeah, and no references," he muttered. "No education. Even if I could get another mechanic job, I'm just worried about where the money's gonna come from in the meantime."

"I could get a job," said Harley.

"You're at school," he retorted. "I don't want you running yourself into the ground with both school and work. Your studies are more important. Anyway, I should be the one supporting you."

"Why's that? Because you're the man?" she asked, grinning.

"Because I wanna support you," he murmured. "Because I wanna do everything in the world for you. Because I love you."

She kissed him tenderly. "Don't worry, puddin'," she said. "Something will turn up. It'll all work out ok as long as we're together."

"I guess that is the important thing," he agreed, smiling at her. He kissed her and stood up. "Just gonna get a drink – be right back."

"Don't be too long," she said. "I'll miss you."

Jack flicked on the light to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of scotch. He took a long gulp of it, his eyes wandering around the room and finally fixating on a drawer. He stared at it, gulping his drink again, and then headed over, sliding it open.

He pulled out his gun. He had moved it in here since he and Harley got together – it was dangerous making love with a gun under your pillow. He studied the weapon closely, Sal Valestra's voice ringing in his head: _Your Pop did a couple hits, a couple times a month, and that's all the work he had to do for weeks…It'll be a big haul, fifty grand each at least…if you ever wanna earn a lotta money fast…_

He replaced the gun suddenly, slamming the drawer shut and downing the drink. "Stupid," he muttered. "Stupid to think about that. You have more to lose than ever, with Harley here. Stupid to think about throwing your life away on crime like that…"

He put the glass down and then returned to the bedroom, where he hoped Harley's soothing voice would replace Sal Valestra's nagging voice in his head.


	16. Chapter 16

"Hey, you're back!" said Jack, as Harley opened the door to their apartment carrying a box with the last of her stuff from her dorm room. "How did it go?"

"Fine," she replied. "Julia didn't get it – she just kept crying and telling me to reconsider. In the end, I just had to tell her bye and shut the door. I don't think we'll be hanging out anymore."

"That's a shame," said Jack. "I feel guilty alienating you first from your parents, and now your friends…"

"Believe me, Jack, the only friend I want or need is right here," she said, putting down the box and wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek. "Smells good," she said, nodding at the pasta he was cooking on the stove. "Though really I should be the one cooking for you."

"How's that?" he asked, grinning at her. "You may wanna be Little Miss Housewife, but I remember when your Mom tried to teach you to cook and you nearly set the apartment on fire."

"One little mistake and nobody lets me live it down," she sighed. "Anyway, wouldn't you like to see me in a little white apron?"

"Mmm, and nothing else," he agreed, kissing her. "But I've sampled your cooking, Harley, and trust me, it's for the best that I do this."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Be that way, meanie," she said, heading over to unpack the box. She pulled out the creased picture of Jack and grinned, then bounced over to show him. "Here's the picture of you I used to talk to," she said.

He looked at it, and made a face. "I hate my hair in that. And I've got a goofy smile."

"You've got a gorgeous smile," she retorted, kissing him. "As usual."

She returned to the box. "Oh, and here's someone you'll recognize!" she said, pulling out her worn clown doll. "Harley Quinn!"

"Boy, do I ever remember her!" laughed Jack. "I remember you had to hold her every night while I read you that goddamn _Joker the Clown Joins the Circus_ book."

"I don't remember that story," said Harley, frowning.

"Of course you do!" he exclaimed. "Christ, I read it to you so many times I could probably recite it from memory! Joker the clown? Green hair, purple suit? Joins the circus and wants to be an acrobat, and then a lion tamer, and then a ringmaster? And you know he's gonna end up as a clown, because that's given away by the title, but you still have to read about all his failed attempts over and over again. It was so predictable, but you just loved it. The pictures were nice, I guess."

He flipped the pasta into a strainer. "For years that's what you wanted to be when you grew up. A clown. When did you drop that ambition to become a shrink?" he asked, grinning at her.

"I dunno – probably when I realized that doctors make more money than clowns," she retorted.

He shrugged. "Money isn't everything. You gotta love what you do. And have you ever seen an unhappy clown?"

"Maybe you should apply to be one," said Harley. "Since you're in between jobs. I think being a clown would suit you, especially since you think you already got a goofy smile."

"I _do _have a goofy smile," he retorted.

"No, you got a sexy smile," she purred, putting her arms around him again. "So I guess that rules you out. Who ever heard of a sexy clown?"

"What about you, Harley Quinn?" he chuckled, turning to kiss her. "You are one sexy little clown, who is making my slide whistle grow just looking at you."

She giggled as they kissed, which was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," she said, grinning at him and drawing reluctantly away. "Don't let that slide whistle droop."

He chuckled, returning his attention to the pasta while Harley skipped over to open the door. "Hi. Can I help you?" she asked.

"Just looking for Jack Napier, sweetheart – is he around?" asked a familiar voice that sent Jack's heart plummeting into his stomach.

He turned off the burner and then headed toward the door. "Sal, what a pleasant surprise!" he said, forcing a smile. "I wasn't expecting you – you should have called before dropping by!"

"Why? Do you have things you don't want me to see?" asked Sal Valestra, smiling at Harley as he entered the living room.

"No, just…would have got the place cleaned up for you," muttered Jack. "And we're just about to sit down to dinner, so..."

"I already ate, don't worry about me," said Sal, taking a seat in the living room. He smiled at Harley. "Won't you introduce us, Jack?"

"Harley, this is Salvatore Valestra, who I've mentioned," growled Jack. "Sal, this is Harleen Quinzel. My…girlfriend."

Sal beamed. "So you're Jack's girl!" he said. "So nice to finally meet you, Harley. I can see why Jack was so reluctant to drag himself away from you," he chuckled, kissing Harley's hand. "My, he likes them young, doesn't he?" he asked, smiling unpleasantly at her. "I trust you're legal."

"Of course I am!" snapped Harley.

"I don't doubt it for a second!" chuckled Sal. "Straight and narrow Jack Napier would never do something illegal, let alone someone! He's a good man now."

"Yes, he is," retorted Harley, cuddling Jack gently. "Now how can we help you, Mr. Valestra?"

Sal grinned at her. "Jack's less hospitable with you around, sweetheart – normally he offers me a smoke and a drink. Just common decency toward your guests, really."

"What kind of drink do you want?" asked Harley, as Jack handed Sal his cigarette case.

"I'll help myself – don't want a pretty dame waiting on me," said Sal, standing up and heading to the kitchen. "Anyway, you're probably not old enough to handle alcohol!" he laughed. He sat back down with his glass and lit up his cigarette, leaning back in his chair.

"Is there some purpose to your visit here, Mr. Valestra?" asked Harley.

Sal grinned. "Just stopped by for a friendly chat with my old pal Jack," he said. "I knew his parents, y'know, knew his mother very well," he chuckled. "And I've been keeping a fatherly eye on him for years, just to make sure he's doing all right, making the most of his talents and potential, for his parents' sake."

He puffed out a cloud of smoke. "How about that talent and potential, Jack? Have you considered my generous job offer?"

"I have," retorted Jack. "And the answer's no, Sal."

Sal said nothing, looking at his cigarette. "I don't like negativity, y'know, Jackie boy," he murmured. "No is probably my least favorite word. Nothing worse than stubborn refusal – the key to getting on in life is compromise. You know that, don't you?"

He tapped the ashes of the cigarette onto the carpet. "For instance, we could compromise on this little job of mine. You could do it for me, and I could continue to let you live in peace and happiness with your little girlfriend here. Or you could refuse to do it, which would be very unpleasant of you, and I would have to compromise by doing something unpleasant in return, either to you or to your little girlfriend."

He inhaled from the cigarette. "It's up to you, of course. I'm not the kinda guy who forces people to do things they don't want to do. A man makes his own choices in life, that's my motto, and lives with the consequences."

He exhaled slowly, smiling. "But if you do wanna help your old pal Sal out, you should meet me at the Ace Chemicals plant at ten o'clock Friday evening. I hope I'll see you there. For Harley's sake," he said, smiling at her.

He stood up. "Think it over," he said, heading for the door. "Think it over very carefully, Jack. I'll see you soon."

He left, and Jack let out the breath he had been holding. "Oh, Jesus Christ!" he gasped. "Jesus Christ…"

"You don't have to go, puddin'," said Harley, firmly, hugging him tightly. "I ain't afraid of Sal Valestra…"

"You should be!" he shouted. "Only an idiot wouldn't be! Oh God, what am I gonna do?" he said, running his fingers through his hair.

"We could run away," said Harley. "Leave Gotham…"

"You think a man like Sal Valestra couldn't find us?" demanded Jack. "No, wherever we'd go, he'd make us pay. He's too powerful to escape from…too powerful to refuse…"

He let out a sob, and Harley embraced him, stroking his hair back and shushing him. "I can't…be a criminal again, Harley!" he gasped, clutching her tightly. "I can't go back to that lifestyle..."

"You think I won't still love you?" she whispered. "Because I will, whatever happens."

He said nothing, holding her tightly. "Promise?" he whispered at last.

"I promise, puddin'," she said, kissing him. "Whatever happens."

He nodded slowly. "Ok, then," he whispered. "I'll…I'll do this job, and that's it. Just one, tiny operation, and then we'll be free of him."

"You trust him to keep his word?" asked Harley. "You don't think he'll just keep blackmailing you into working for him?"

"No, I don't," murmured Jack. "I don't think he'll survive the operation, Harley. In fact, I'm going to see to it that he doesn't."

Harley stared at him. "You're going to…murder him?"

"He'll just keep interfering in our life if I don't," he whispered. "It's the only way to be rid of him for good, don't you understand? It's the only way I can be…good again. I've gotta kill him. And then the past will be laid to rest, and I can live the rest of my life with you, as a good man. No more crime, no more violence, no more need for guns. Just the two of us…together and happy forever. Doesn't that sound wonderful, Harley? Doesn't that sound like something worth killing for?"

She stared into his desperate, pleading eyes, and then kissed him tenderly. "Yeah, puddin'," she whispered. "Yeah, it does."


	17. Chapter 17

"Please let me come with you, Jack," begged Harley.

"No," retorted Jack, firmly, as he pulled on his coat.

"But what if something happens to you?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

"What if something happens to _you_?" he demanded. "You think I could live with that? You think I don't already hate myself enough for what I gotta do without you getting hurt in the process? It's too dangerous, Harley."

"If it's dangerous, you could use my help," she retorted.

"Sweetheart, please," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eyes. "I love you so much. And this isn't a game. It's gonna be hard enough looking after myself in there, let alone you. You have to stay here. I promise I'll call you the moment I'm free…"

"But until then I just have to sit here worrying?" demanded Harley. "There's nothing worse than that, Jack. Just waiting by the phone as the seconds tick by, not being able to distract yourself because your mind is too preoccupied by horrible thoughts of what could be happening to you...I'll go crazy, puddin'!"

"And I'll go crazy if anything happens to you," he retorted. "So please, Harley, for my sake, just stay here. Promise me, ok?"

She sighed. "I promise," she murmured.

"That's my girl," he said, kissing her. "And whatever happens tonight…I'll always love you."

He holstered his gun, and Harley threw herself into his arms, squeezing him tightly. "Come back to me," she whispered. "Please."

He kissed her again. "I promise," he said. She held onto his hand as he walked out the door, and then slowly let go, gazing after him with tears in her eyes.

He headed down the stairs and then turned back, racing back up the stairs to her and seizing her in his arms. "I love you!" he whispered, kissing her desperately over and over again. "I love you so much!"

She returned his hungry kisses, crying silently until he reluctantly drew away again. "I'll see you soon," he said, heading down the stairs again.

"I'll be waiting," she said, waving at him until the darkness swallowed him up.

…

"Fifty grand each, easy," said Salvatore Valestra as he, Jack, and two other rough-looking men crouched in the back of a van. "Assuming this all goes to plan, which it will. Jack, you're the marksman – the plant's guarded by two guard towers. I want those guards taken out the minute we're through the gates, understood?"

"Yes, sir," murmured Jack.

"Buzz, Chuckie, you're covering me once we get inside. There's minimal night-shift security – shouldn't be a problem for three guns. Jack, you join us as soon as you can – there's gonna be a big haul, and I'm gonna need all my guys to carry it. We get in there, get the money, get out – twenty minutes tops. Easy."

"What if the Bat shows up, boss?" asked Chuckie, as he climbed into the front seat and started the van.

"What Bat?" asked Jack.

"The Batman – don't you read the papers?" snapped Buzz. "He's some costumed freak who's just appeared on the scene in Gotham and whose hobby seems to be terrorizing the criminal underworld. He's foiled a lotta gang's operations recently, and left the perps strung up for the police to find."

"If you're so worried about him, Buzz, I'll leave you outside the plant to do Bat-guard duty," retorted Sal. "But I ain't scared of some nutjob in a Halloween costume."

"So he's like…some kinda specially trained cop?" asked Jack, slowly.

"Nah, cops say he ain't theirs," retorted Buzz. "Apparently he works alone, like all looneys and psychopaths. Probably some sick, sadistic freak who gets off on beating the crap outta people. You should see the pictures of the guys he catches – broken bones, black eyes, blood everywhere, it's a real mess. So excuse me for being a little edgy about him."

Jack's nervousness only grew at this, and he tried to steady his hands by clutching his gun. The cool metal was soothing to him. _Just a bullet to the head_ he thought, glancing at Sal. _Nice and quick and clean. And then Harley and me are free forever_.

"Showtime," said Sal, clapping Jack on the back, as Chuckie turned a corner and the van pulled into the gates of the Ace Chemicals Factory. Two searchlights from the guard towers fixed on the van, and Jack took a deep breath, leaning out the window and aiming his gun.

Two quick bullets took out the lights, and two more the guards. Sal chuckled as they opened the van doors, piling out and grabbing weapons. "Crack shot, just like your Pop," he said, clapping Jack on the back again. "Oh, he'd be proud of you today, Jackie boy!"

Jack gritted his teeth as he followed Sal and Chuckie into the factory, while Buzz waited outside to keep watch. The whole place smelled foul and sterile, like a hospital, or cleaning products. Probably from whatever crap was in these vats, thought Jack, as they passed row after row of huge metal tankards filled with bubbling green liquid.

He heard more gunfire up ahead as Sal and Chuckie took out more guards. A man in uniform suddenly rounded the corner. "Freeze!" he shouted, aiming at Jack, who beat him to the punch, firing a bullet straight into his head. He was dead before he hit the ground in front of him. Jack's heart raced as he saw the blood pooling around his feet, realizing that he had just killed a man.

"Good practice, I guess," he muttered, willing the emotions of guilt and self-loathing down. "For when I gotta kill another one."

"Jack! C'mon over and help us!" called Chuckie from the office. Jack followed the sound of his voice, where Sal and Chuckie were bent over an open safe.

"What did I tell ya?" chuckled Sal, beaming at them. "Fifty grand each easy! C'mon, boys, let's haul it outta here!"

They filled sacks with bills, Jack filling his more slowly, his heart racing. Not long now…

Chuckie's sack was full and he headed out of the office, leaving Sal and Jack alone. Suddenly, they heard a commotion coming from outside. "Buzz?" called Sal. "Chuckie?"

Now or never, while he was distracted, thought Jack. He took a deep breath, raised his gun, and then fired it into the back of Sal's head. Blood spattered everywhere, covering Jack, as the gangster's body fell to the ground. Jack gasped from the shock, his hand shaking.

"Christ!" he gasped. "Jesus Christ!"

He mechanically moved toward the door, still clutching the sack of loot in his hand and shutting his eyes, knowing he'd never be able to block out the mental image of what he had done. But when he opened them, a new horror greeted his vision.

It was a man in a bat costume. No, not a costume, he noticed – some kinda armor. The only thing visible was the man's jaw, hard and resolute, and his eyes, which fixed on Jack in loathing.

"You murdered him," he growled, in a deep voice. "You murdered him for an extra share of loot. It's disgusting to take a human life for money, but I guess it's true - there is no honor among thieves, is there, Jack Napier?"

Jack gaped at him, terrified. "How…how do you know who I am?" he gasped.

"I know you're a piece of criminal scum, just like your father," growled Batman. "Like father, like son. The apple never falls far from the tree, does it, Jack Napier? And to think you tried to pull the wool over everyone's eyes. You even succeeded, with Harley."

"How do you know about Harley?" gasped Jack, becoming more frightened with each passing second as the grip on his gun tightened.

"I know about everything to do with your life, Jack Napier," murmured Batman. "And don't you worry. After I leave you broken and battered on the ground to be hauled off to prison, I'll drop in on Harleen Quinzel. She deserves a better man than you, and she'll finally get to have one."

"You stay the hell away from Harley!" shouted Jack, his fear turning to fury in an instant. He fired three shots at Batman, who dodged into the shadows. Jack raced after him, looking around carefully.

He spotted him up above him, on one of the raised platforms above the vat, and fired. Batman disappeared again, and Jack ran up the stairs to reach the platform, studying the darkness with his gun raised.

Suddenly, the platform lurched, and Jack grabbed hold of the railing, trying to steady himself. He looked up to see that one of the chains connecting the platform to the ceiling had been cut…and then another one was, sending the platform lurching downward. Jack dropped his gun, using both hands to cling onto the railing now, and watched the weapon slide down the ramp and disappear into the glowing, green vat below.

His heart racing and panting for breath, Jack clung desperately onto the railing, trying to regain his footing. But the incline was steep, and even with the railing to steady himself, he kept slipping further and further toward the acid below. He could feel the heat from it bubbling up toward him…

And then Batman landed above him, his sudden weight making the platform jump and knocking Jack's grip from the railing. He slid down toward the acid, scrambling to grab ahold of anything…and then Batman seized his hand.

"Don't worry about Harley. I'll take good care of her for you," he whispered, grinning. "The better man was always going to win eventually, you know. It's just easier for everyone this way. So goodbye, Jack Napier."

And then Batman hurled him backward, sending him plummeting into the acid below. Jack's scream was cut off as the green chemical filled his mouth, choking him, drowning him, and then it swallowed him whole.


	18. Chapter 18

The hours ticked by as Harley waited by her phone. Every minute seemed like an hour, and every hour seemed like a lifetime.

She turned on the TV just for the comfort and distraction of the noise, but she didn't hear a word of any of the programs. She just sat in the otherwise dark apartment, her eyes riveted on the telephone.

Light began streaming through the windows at last, and Harley's panic, which had been growing steadily as the hours passed, now seized her entirely. She picked up her phone and dialed Jack's number repeatedly, but there was no answer. At last, in a desperate attempt to keep calm, she called the police.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Um…I'd just like to know if…you made any arrests last night," gasped Harley, her voice shaking.

"Arrests? We make tons of arrests every night, lady, and this is an emergency number…"

"It_ is_ an emergency!" she cried. "I really, really need to know if you arrested anyone at the Ace Chemicals plant last night!"

There was silence. "How do you know about that?" asked the man on the other end, slowly.

"It doesn't matter – I just…I really need to know who you've arrested in connection with it," gasped Harley.

"I really can't give that information out to civilians…"

"Please, for God's sake!" she screamed, bursting into tears. "I'll go crazy if I don't know he's safe!"

The man sighed heavily. "Let me get the info – hang on," he muttered. Harley tried to stop crying before the man returned, her heart hammering in her chest. "Ok, we made two arrests, one Chuckie Sol, and one Buzz Bronski," he said at last. "Known associates of Salvatore Valestra – they were both in pretty bad shape."

"And…no one else?" stammered Harley, her heart plummeting.

"Well…Salvatore Valestra's body was recovered from the scene," continued the man. "He'd been shot in the back of the head. I guess either Sol or Bronski did it, but they're in no fit state to give a confession…"

"No, there…there had to be someone else there!" shrieked Harley.

"No, ma'am," replied the man. "There wasn't."

Harley sobbed, hanging up the phone suddenly, her mind exploding with a million terrible possibilities. And then there was a knock on the door.

Her heart leapt in hope, and she threw the door open, beaming and expecting to see Jack…

But it was Bruce Wayne who stood there, and her face fell. "Bruce," she stammered. "What…are you doing here?"

"Just came to offer my condolences," said Bruce, handing her a bouquet of lilies.

"Condolences…for what?" asked Harley.

"Why, for the death of Jack Napier, of course," replied Bruce, frowning. "You must have heard."

"I…what…no!" gasped Harley. "No, I hadn't, I…how do you know this?"

"I'm friends with Police Commissioner Gordon," said Bruce, entering the apartment and taking a seat. "There was a raid on the Ace Chemicals plant last night…"

"Yes, I…called the police," stammered Harley. "They said they only arrested two criminals, and found Valestra dead. But Jack wasn't there."

Bruce stared at her. "You mean you knew Jack Napier was a criminal?"

"He's not a criminal," snapped Harley. "He's a good man, the best man…"

"He shot Sal Valestra in the back of the head," interrupted Bruce. "For money. Any man who can murder for money is not a good man."

"He shot Sal Valestra for us," hissed Harley. "Not for money. Not that it's any of your business – what I want to know is how you know Jack is dead!"

"He fell into a vat of acid," retorted Bruce. "Gordon said there were eyewitness accounts from the other criminals."

"No, I was told they weren't conscious yet," said Harley. "He couldn't have heard their accounts…"

"Harley, you should trust me," interrupted Bruce. "I assure you, Jack Napier is dead. He fell into a vat of acid. I couldn't be more certain than if I saw it with my own two eyes."

Harley stared at him. "I…I don't believe you," she stammered.

"Then don't," he retorted. "Waste your life waiting around for him to come back, which he never will. He's dead. Gone for good. Mourn him if you must, but I would suggest moving on as soon as possible."

He stood up, putting an arm around her. "If there's anything I can do to…ease your sorrow…you must let me know," he murmured.

"Yes, there is, Bruce," muttered Harley. She glared up at him. "Get the hell out of my home, and take your stupid flowers with you!"

She shoved the bouquet back into his hands and then shoved him away. "I can't believe you show up here claiming that Jack is dead, and then instantly try to make a move on me! As far as I'm concerned, if he is dead, I'll never love anyone again! And if he isn't, you'd better hope I don't tell him about your little visit, or Sal Valestra won't be the only one with a bullet through his head!"

She slammed the door in his face, and then collapsed sobbing on the sofa. She cried for hours, giving herself up completely to despair until the light once more faded from the sky. And still she didn't get up – she lacked the desire to move. She just wanted to lie where she was and die. If Jack were truly gone, she wanted to be dead with him.

Then she heard a knock on her door. "Go away, Bruce!" she shouted.

The door suddenly opened, and Harley turned to see a man standing there, his face hidden in shadow. "Oh my God, who are you?" she gasped, leaping to her feet.

The man said nothing, entering the apartment and shutting the door behind him. He approached her, and Harley began to panic, looking around for a weapon to defend herself. She grabbed hold of the lamp, but he seized her wrist, squeezing hard and making her drop it in a shriek of pain. His breath was hot on her face as she raised her eyes, trembling, to look into his.

And she recognized those eyes. They were wild and crazy, but so very familiar. "Puddin'…" she gasped.

And then he was kissing her, and she let out a moan of relief, melting into his arms. She shut her eyes tightly, enjoying the safety and warmth of his kiss, and the realization that he was here, not dead, here in her arms and safe.

"Oh God, he said you were dead!" she gasped when he drew away at last, falling on his knees and burying his face in her chest. "He said you were dead and I thought my life was over, I thought…"

She looked down at him, and trailed off when she realized she was stroking green hair. "Puddin'?" she asked, puzzled. "Did you…dye your hair?"

He let out a groan. "Don't…look at me, Harley," he gasped. "Please don't…look at me!"

"What are you talking about?" she asked. "You're beautiful, puddin' – you've always been beautiful to me. I mean, it's kinda weird that you wanna dye your hair green all of a sudden, but it doesn't make you any less attractive…"

He groaned again, sobbing into her chest. Sobbing or…maybe it was laughter. It was hard to tell, a kind of strange, hysterical noise. "You…you remember that book you used to love?" he murmured. "_Joker the Clown Joins the Circus_?"

"I remember you told me about it," she replied. "What does that have to do with anything?"

He giggled again, and then looked up at her. "I'm Joker the Clown," he whispered.

Harley started back in shock – Jack's face was bone white, making his wild green eyes seem brighter against his green hair. He smiled up at her with grinning, red lips, laughter choking from his throat.

"It's…it's a good gag, ain't it?" he laughed. "Just need to get a purple suit, and I'll be all set to join the circus! Ain't gonna be as dumb as that goddamn clown though, no, siree. I ain't gonna try to be an acrobat or a lion tamer or a ringmaster! I'm gonna be a clown! I'm Joker the Clown!"

He started laughing hysterically, falling to the ground in fits of giggles. Harley stared at him, stunned, and then kneeled down to hug him. "Puddin', what happened? How did you end up like this?"

"I…I fell…trying to be an acrobat, Harley," he whispered. "Trying to be a Bat tamer…I fell into some…some chemicals…and then I became Joker the Clown! Here for your entertainment, sweetheart, as usual," he said, taking her hand. "Here for you over and over and over again. Where's Harley Quinn? We need Harley Quinn before we can start reading – she wants to look at the pretty pictures too!"

He got to his feet abruptly, heading to their bedroom and grabbing the doll. Harley followed him, and he gestured to the bed. "Now let's tuck you in, kiddo, with Harley Quinn and then you can hear all about Joker the Clown!"

Harley slowly obeyed, climbing into bed and gazing at him in concern. He climbed in after her, propping himself up on the pillows and holding her in his embrace. "Once upon a time there was a clown named the Joker," he whispered. "He may have had some other name before, but he doesn't remember it so good now. He doesn't really remember much of anything except a little girl…a little girl called…Harley Quinn, and that's you, sweets!" he said, kissing her. "That's you! Anyway, Joker the Clown…met a Bat one night, and…that's where the story gets hazy," he said, frowning. "But Joker the Clown is much happier now than he used to be – before there were things bothering him, silly, stupid things, jokes really, only Joker the Clown didn't see that they were jokes before. But they are. Because everything is, Harley. Everything is one great, big joke. You get that, being a clown too, doncha, sweets? You get that, doncha, Harley Quinn?"

"Jack…what's wrong with you?" she whispered, gazing at him with tears in her eyes.

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong with me, sweets, not anymore," he said, kissing her. "Look at me! I'm the happiest guy in the world! I've finally found what I'm supposed to be, don't you get it? Joker the Clown! Who just wants to make the world smile and laugh, and make everyone as happy as he is now! And you'll help me, won't you, Harley? You'll help me, because you'll always love me, whatever happens, you promised that. Didn't you, Harley? Whatever happens?"

He was gazing at her and smiling, but there was a desperate pleading in his eyes that melted Harley's heart. "Of course I love you, puddin'," she whispered, kissing him tenderly. "And I always will."

He giggled. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were joking, Harley Quinn. But you're not joking, are you?"

"Nah uh," she agreed. "Now puddin', why don't we stop with the bedtime story and just go to bed?"

"You're the boss!" he chuckled, lying down with Harley in his arms. "Or…wait. Maybe you're not the boss – that guy whose head I exploded was." He burst out laughing hysterically. "You should have seen how much blood went everywhere, Harley! It was like a pie in the face gag! Kersplat!"

"Just try not to think about that, puddin'," said Harley, soothingly. "Try to sleep. I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning."

"Oh, I'm sure I won't!" he chuckled. "Can't just sleep off madness! Being crazy is kinda a permanent state of mind! Well, you know that, being a shrink in training. No cure for insanity, is there, Harley?"

"Maybe not yet, puddin'," she murmured, kissing him. "But I'm sure we can find one together. Go to sleep now."

He was clearly exhausted, and fell asleep in moments. Harley remained awake, staring at the still beautiful clown face. She didn't know if she could help fix whatever was wrong with Jack. But she knew even if she couldn't, she would never stop loving him.


	19. Chapter 19

"Miss Quinzel?" said the doctor, entering the waiting room.

"Yes," said Harley, standing up eagerly. She had been perusing a magazine, but honestly couldn't have told anyone what the article said or what the pictures depicted. She was too sick with worry over Jack.

"Would you come with me to my office, please?" he asked.

She nodded, her nervousness only increasing at this. They entered the office and the doctor shut the door, gesturing at her to have a seat.

"How is he?" she asked.

The doctor was silent, sitting down across from her. "We've done some scans, Miss Quinzel, and I'm sorry to have to tell you that Mr. Napier's brain has been permanently damaged by whatever chemicals he was exposed to."

"Permanently damaged?" repeated Harley. "You mean…he won't get better?"

"It's completely irreparable, I'm sorry to say," said the doctor. "There's nothing we can do. The best thing for him would be to be placed under some form of psychiatric care…"

"You mean lock him up in an asylum?" demanded Harley.

"If you want to put it in those terms," retorted the doctor. "He needs professional help and constant supervision. He has spontaneous periods of maniacal euphoria and uncontrollable laughter. This is combined with a very bright, active mind and…the desire to hurt others, which could lead to trouble if he's not properly cared for."

"What do you mean, the desire to hurt others?" asked Harley. "Jack wouldn't hurt a soul."

"Like I said, Miss Quinzel, Mr. Napier's mind has become permanently damaged," repeated the doctor. "He's no longer the man you knew. We had to have him strapped down and sedated for the tests because he kept trying to attack the doctors. He seemed to think the violence was all some big joke. That's probably due to the unfortunate nature of his deformity – he's convinced he should be some kind of clown…"

"Joker the Clown," murmured Harley. "Yeah, I know."

"Maybe it's a coping mechanism, maybe it's a genuine abnormality, we don't know," said the doctor. "But he's very amused by violence. And he's very clever about his ways of inflicting it."

"Jack was always clever," murmured Harley. "Nobody else thought so, but…he didn't like to chat with others a lot because his mind was always working. He would always talk to me, and he was a very smart man. Not like book smarts, but…really smart."

"And what exactly is your relationship to Mr. Napier?" asked the doctor.

"He's my boyfriend," she said. "We live together."

"Does he have any other family we can contact?" asked the doctor.

"No," said Harley, quietly. "No, he…he had family once but…they rejected him after we got together."

"I see," said the doctor. "Well, normally when a patient has to be committed, we need the permission of his next of kin. In this case, a blood relation. So if you could just tell us where his family is, we'll write to them right away…"

"Maybe…uh…I can see him first?" asked Harley. "Maybe we can talk about this, and I can get him to voluntarily commit himself."

The doctor nodded slowly. "Very well, if you think you can get through to him. I'll show you to his room."

He led her down the hall to a cold, sterile room with white walls. Jack sat in a chair in the corner, looking out the window and giggling to himself.

"Jack?" whispered Harley, as the door shut.

He turned to her, grinning. "Sorry, sweetheart, the only person in here is the Joker."

"Ok," said Harley, sitting down across from him. "Mr. Joker, then. Can I talk to you?"

"Always, Harley Quinn," he said, smiling at her. "What's on your mind?"

She bit her lip. "The doctors say…there's some kinda problem with your brain. They say you're not…thinking straight…"

"But I am, sweets!" he chuckled, beaming at her. "I am! For the first time in my life, I see the world as it truly is! It's a mad carnival! An amusement park, a circus of wonders! Full of fun and frolics and laughter and jokes! And I'm the clown in this circus – Joker the Clown, and my job is to make people laugh. And you know what people laugh at, Harley? They laugh at slapstick! Violence! Punching, kicking, hitting, shooting, exploding – other people in pain! Hilarious as long as it doesn't happen to you, of course," he chuckled.

"Mr. Joker, I need you to listen to me," said Harley, tears in her eyes as she took his hand. "You can't go around hurting people…"

"Why not?" he asked, puzzled. "It's only to make people laugh. Where's the harm?"

Harley just looked at him, and the tears burst forth. "Oh, Jack!" she gasped, hugging him. "Oh, baby, they wanna lock you up! They wanna lock you up in some awful asylum so you can't hurt people, but I can't think of you there, locked away from me, alone in some cold, sterile prison! I…I want you home, with me – I'll look after you, baby, I'll…I'll do anything to help you!" she sobbed.

He embraced her gently, shushing her and letting her cry into his chest. "Oh, Harley," he whispered. "Harley, Harley, Harley, my sweet little girl. Please don't cry. I don't like tears, and I don't like people who make you cry by trying to take me away from you. You should always be happy, sweets – always smiling and laughing. You always used to smile and laugh at Joker the Clown."

He titled her chin up, smiling at her. "Here. I know something that'll cheer you up. Joker's gonna make you laugh again, just watch."

"How?" she asked, wiping her eyes.

He took her hand, standing up and heading toward the door. He knocked firmly on it, and a hospital attendant opened it. "Yes?" he said.

That was the last thing he said. Jack slammed the door hard in his face, so that Harley heard his nose crack and the blood go everywhere. He fell to the ground, unconscious, and Jack laughed hysterically, racing down the hall pulling Harley after him. An alarm was raised, and hospital security staff came rushing in. Jack pulled them both down into the surgery wing, ducking into a room as security rushed after them. He seized a handful of operating tools, grinning as the guards pointed guns at him.

"Put down the weapons, freak," muttered one.

Jack grinned at Harley. "What do you think, sweets? Am I a knife-thrower?"

He aimed the knife at the guards, who just pointed guns back. And then he suddenly threw it upwards, where it sliced through an overhanging lamp, which fell and brained the guards underneath.

Jack burst into a fit of giggles, grabbing the fallen guards' guns. "No, I ain't!" he chuckled. "I'm a clown! I'm Joker the Clown and I make people laugh! Why aren't you laughing?" he chuckled at the fallen guards. "Can't you take a joke?"

He turned to grin at Harley, who just stared at him. "C'mon, sweets, let's blow this dump!" he laughed. "They're not dragging me off to some asylum! They'll never take me alive!"

He grabbed her hand and they raced out of the hospital. "Freeze, freak!" shouted four police officers who had been called, and were waiting outside, guns pointed at them. "Hands in the air!"

Jack grinned. "If you insist," he chuckled, holding up the guns. He fired rapidly, before the police could get a shot off, four bullets straight to their heads. "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe!" he laughed. "Like shooting fish in a barrel, right, kiddo?" he said, turning to Harley.

He headed over to the police car, shoving aside the body in the driver's seat. "Let's roll, kid," he said, gesturing inside.

Harley stared at him. He had just killed four police officers, and seriously wounded three hospital staff. He was a violent criminal, and the law would be looking for him now. The law would be looking for both of them, unless she left him…unless she refused to go with this man, who was no longer Jack Napier, who was some kind of homicidal clown. Unless she broke her promise to Jack, to love him whatever happened…

If she got in that car, she'd be surrendering to insanity. Her life as a normal person would be over – she would be an accomplice to murder, a sidekick to some crazy clown who amused himself with violence and murder…

"Harley," he said, looking at her. "Please. Get in."

He gazed at her with Jack's eyes, the eyes of the man she loved, and couldn't live without, even in this twisted form. The look in those eyes said that he needed her, he loved her, every bit as much as she loved him. Even after all that had happened to him, their love had survived. And she would not be the one to kill it.

She nodded, climbing slowly into the car and shutting the door. "I love you…Mr. J…"

He cut her off with a kiss, a wild, passionate, crazy kiss. "Mr. J will do," he chuckled, backing out and driving off into the city.


	20. Chapter 20

"Puddin'? You coming to bed?" asked Harley, entering the makeshift study where the Joker sat, hunched over a lamp, surrounded by sheet after sheet of paper filled with sketches and notes and schemes.

"In a bit," he replied, not looking up. "Busy planning some jokes."

"Yeah? What kinda jokes?" asked Harley, glancing at the papers.

He chuckled, leaning back. "I've just been thinking, pooh," he said, smiling up at her. "Playing gags on unsuspecting bystanders is great and all, but you know who would be the funniest person to hurt?"

"Who's that, puddin'?" she asked.

"Batman," he replied.

"Oh. Why's that?" she asked.

"Don't ask me to explain my jokes, Harley," he retorted. "You must get it. It's so obvious."

"Well, it's…his fault you're the way you are…" said Harley, slowly.

"Exactly, pooh bear!" he chuckled. "Clever girl! He created me! He started the joke, and now I have to give him the punchline! It's only fair!"

He giggled, drawing more knives into the picture of Batman in front of him. Harley stroked his hair back, kissing the top of his head – she had really come to love the green hair. And the laugh, every shade of his crazy, wild laugh. And even the criminal lifestyle wasn't so bad so far – nothing seemed bad as long as she was with him.

"Don't be too long, sweetie," she said, heading for the door. "I got a surprise for you in the bedroom."

"Oooh!" he said, turning to grin at her. "I like the sound of that! Is it a sexy surprise?"

"I think so," she retorted, grinning. "So you'd better hurry up."

"Yes, ma'am!" he chuckled, saluting. She giggled, heading back to the bedroom and lying down on the bed. His present lay wrapped on his pillow, and she stared at it, hoping he'd like it.

Then she heard the noise of a phone ringing. Her phone, she realized, opening the bedside draw and fishing around for it.

"Hello?" she said, answering it.

"Harley!" gasped the familiar voice of Mrs. Quinzel. "Oh, thank God you're alive! George, I've got her!"

"Harley?" came her father's voice. "Harley, are you ok?"

"I'm…fine, Dad," she stammered. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"We've seen the papers," said Mr. Quinzel. "How Jack's snapped, become some murdering nutjob, but I guess the warning signs were always there. I'm just so glad he hasn't hurt you! The police said he hasn't sent a ransom note – do you know what he wants in exchange for you?"

"He's not holding me for ransom," said Harley. "I'm staying with him voluntarily."

There was silence on the other end. "But…but that's crazy, Harley!" gasped her father. "He's…he's a murderer, a monster…"

"I love him," she interrupted. "I love him and that's all that matters. And he loves me, and needs me…"

"Harley, you can't believe the lies he tells you!" cried Mrs. Quinzel. "Nobody who loved you would want you to throw your life away on crime, on some sick joke…"

"It's my decision, Mom," she interrupted. "As it always has been. Mr. J and I are happy together. Our days and nights are filled with fun. I couldn't ask for anything more."

"Hurting and killing people isn't fun!" cried her father.

"It is to Mr. J," she retorted. "And I just love seeing him happy. I'll do whatever it takes for that."

"Harley, please, come back," begged her mother. "Come home! We're your family and we love you…"

"Mr. J is my family now," she replied. "I'm sorry, Mom and Dad, I really am. I wanted us all to be happy together, as we always used to be, but I know that's not possible anymore. I knew it the moment you rejected Jack. And I know you'd never accept either of us back now, not as we truly are. Mr. J needs me, and loves me unconditionally. I can't abandon him."

"Harley…"

"I'll call you back in a second," said Harley, as Joker entered the room suddenly. She hung up the phone, picking up the gift and presenting it to him.

"Wait, me first!" he giggled, opening the closet door and pulling out a gift of his own, which he handed to Harley.

"Oh, Mr. J, you shouldn't have!" she cried, delighted, as she ripped open the wrapping. Inside was a black and red catsuit, decorated with diamonds and topped with a jester hat.

She beamed at him. "It's just like what Harley Quinn wears!"

"It's for you to wear, my little Harley Quinn," he chuckled, kissing her. "When we go out playing pranks together."

"It's so beautiful, Mr. J, thank you!" she cried, leaping into his arms and kissing him. "And now open mine," she said, handing him her box.

He unwrapped it and chuckled. "Kiddo, we must be able to read each other's minds!" he laughed, pulling out a purple suit.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"I love it!" he said. "Now I really am Joker the Clown!"

He kissed her. "Daddy wants to thank you for the pretty present," he whispered, grinning.

"Mmm, and your Harley girl wants to thank you," she purred.

He pushed her down on the bed, kissed her, and then stood up. "You wait here a second," he said, heading into the bathroom. "I'm just gonna fetch some new toys."

"Oooh, I can't wait!" she squealed. "Though I wasn't really sick of the whoopie cushion yet."

"Well, that'll be an old favorite!" he chuckled, shutting the door.

Harley grinned, then picked up her phone again and dialed her parents back. "Harley? Are you ok?"

"I'm just swell, Mom," she sighed. "Anyway, I just wanted to say a proper goodbye – if you're gonna keep calling me just to beg me to leave Mr. J, I ain't gonna keep answering your calls. It won't do any good. I'm never leaving him."

"But Harley, please, you have to listen to reason!" she cried. "You can't just lose your mind like this!"

"Losing your mind is great," she said. "You should try it sometime. It's very freeing. Mr. J's right – we go through life worrying about all kindsa stupid, pointless things, and it's all one big joke. So we shouldn't worry. We should just have a little fun. And that's what we're doing – having fun. So don't worry about me, Mom. I'm happy."

"Harley, please…"

"Gotta go now, Mom," she said, as the bathroom door opened. "Take care of yourself, and Dad. I love you both lots. But I'm madly in love with Mr. J. I always was, and I always will be. It was a crazy whim of fate that led him into my life, but I ain't ever letting him go."

"Harley…"

"Goodbye, Mom," she said, hanging up the phone. She tossed it casually across the room, hearing it hit the floor and break, and then pulled the Joker down into her arms, surrendering herself forever to his kisses, and his body, and his madness.

**The End**


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